Why should she not pluck her innocent roses whilst she might?
Jess forgot that the rose is a flower with a dangerous perfume, and one that is apt to confuse the senses and turn the head.

So she gave herself full swing, and for some weeks went nearer to knowing what happiness really meant than she ever had before.

What a wonderful thing is the love of a woman in its simplicity and strength, and how it gilds all the poor and common things of life and even finds a joy in service! The prouder the woman the more delight does she extract from her self-abasement before her idol.

Only not many women can love like Jess, and when they do almost invariably they make some fatal mistake, whereby the wealth of their affection is wasted, or, worse still, becomes a source of misery or shame to themselves and others.
It was after they had been incarcerated in Pretoria for a month that a bright idea occurred to John.

About a quarter of a mile from the outskirts of the camp stood a little house known, probably on account of its diminutive size, as "The Palatial." This cottage, like almost every other house in Pretoria, had been abandoned to its fate, its owner, as it happened, being away from the town.