In that I may have been romantic." "Perhaps not!" said Mrs.Denison.
Hendrickson looked into her face steadily for some moments, and then said-- "It was an illusion." "Why do you say this, Paul?
Why are you so disturbed?
Speak your heart more freely." "Leon Dexter is rich.

I am--poor!" "You are richer than Leon Dexter in the eyes of a true woman--richer a thousandfold, though he counted his wealth by millions." There were flashes of light in the eyes of Mrs.Denison.
Hendrickson bent his glance to the floor and did not reply.
"If Miss Loring prefers Dexter to you, let her move on in her way without a thought.

She is not worthy to disturb, by even the shadow of her passing form, the placid current of your life.

But I am by no means certain that he _is_ preferred to you." "He has been at her side all the evening," said the young man.
"That proves nothing.

A forward, self-confident, agreeable young gentleman has it in his power thus to monopolize almost any lady.
The really excellent, usually too modest, but superior young men, often permit themselves to be elbowed into the shade by these shallow, rippling, made up specimens of humanity, as you have probably done to-night." "I don't know how that may be, Mrs.Denison; but this I know.