It is only Rupert--and we both love him." Teuta looked at me, flushing rosily; but she sat quiet, and drew the old lady's white head on her young breast.
JANET MACKELPIE'S NOTES.
_July_ 8, 1907.
I used to think that whenever Rupert should get married or start on the way to it by getting engaged--I would meet his future wife with something of the same affection that I have always had for himself.

But I know now that what was really in my mind was _jealousy_, and that I was really fighting against my own instincts, and pretending to myself that I was not jealous.

Had I ever had the faintest idea that she would be anything the least like Teuta, that sort of feeling should never have had even a foothold.

No wonder my dear boy is in love with her, for, truth to tell, I am in love with her myself.

I don't think I ever met a creature--a woman creature, of course, I mean--with so many splendid qualities.