of her suffering soul, "How could he care for me!" And the pride which she held dearest was that she should love so far above her. So she wrote a few letters to the man, and made them as affectionate as she dared. And tore them up, and sent others that were less affectionate. And so it went on until one night at dinner her father spoke up and said:
"I can't get Beauling out of my head."
To this the girl's mind answered: "I can't get him out of my heart." But her many-wiled lips replied: "Can't you?"
"No," said her father. "I want him."
The girl's heart said: "Oh, my God, so do I!" Her lips said: "What for?"
"I could use him," said her father; "and I'm going to write and make him an offer."
The girl's mind, her heart, and her soul said: "I could die for him!" Her lips, "Why don't you?"
Then she slipped up-stairs and herself wrote many crafty pages. She told the man that he was wasting his life and talents. That she would like to respect
