as witness—he and Cyn—so as to make no mistake now!" then turning to the astonished Nattie, he went on,
"Nattie, I—I—my feelings for you have long been of—of adoration—no, please, hear me—" as she made a gesture to interrupt him. "To-night, in this room, I addressed another—Celeste—" here he groaned, but recovered himself and went on, "in the dark, you know, with words intended for you. I want to know now, what, had I not been so deceived, you would have said?"
"But what difference can it make now?" asked Nattie, hesitating, and wishing to spare him, as he paused for a reply.
"Every difference!" said Quimby, wildly. "I beg you to—to answer me truly, in order that I may know what course to take!"
"Then since you wish," replied Nattie, with a pitying glance, "I will tell you that as a friend I think very highly of you, and always shall. But, that is all."
"Then come on, Celeste!" exclaimed Quimby, in a burst of despair. "She—she says, she loves me, and I—I may get used to it in time! all but her teeth," he added, in his strict honesty, "to those I never can!"
Cyn felt a mischievous desire to hint that time
