adopt such weak pleas, I never could understand.
It was not love of her.
A man never injures a woman through love of her, but through love of self. I realized this all the time, but I was passionately happy, and happiness is not so plentiful that I should slight it, result as it might.
I promised to marry her.
It happened in a moment when I loved her best. I knew at the time, I was doing a reckless thing. The next day I warned her to keep our love secret, because there were reasons why, if it were known, it would be injurious to me. She, appreciating the difference between us, was as silent as I could be.
By and by things began to pall.
I was too well acquainted with her. I grew tired of her pretty face. Her little vulgarities exasperated me. She was a woman of such little variety, and she so weakly bowed to
