well. Know him only by what's best in him, and spare him for the same sweet sake."
My young lady continued to look at me in confusion and mistrust, and the result of her reflection on what I had just said was to make her suddenly break out: "Look here, sir—what's the matter with him?"
"The matter with him is that, if he doesn't look out, people will eat a great hole in his life."
She considered a moment. "He hasn't any disfigurement?"
"Nothing to speak of!"
"Do you mean that social engagements interfere with his occupations?"
"That but feebly expresses it."
"So that he can't give himself up to his beautiful imagination?"
"He's badgered, bothered, overwhelmed, on the pretext of being applauded. People expect him to give them his time, his golden time, who would not themselves give five shillings for one of his books."
"Five? I'd give five thousand!"
"Give your sympathy—give your forbearance. Two-thirds of those who approach him only do it to advertise themselves."
"Why, it's too bad!" the girl exclaimed, with the face of an angel. "It's the first time I was ever called crude!" she laughed.
I followed up my advantage. "There's a lady with him now who's a terrible complication, and
