He opened his left hand and showed me the doe-skin glove crumpled up in his palm.
'I would not barter it for all the gold in her grandsire's coffers,' said he, with a sudden outflame, and then half-laughing, half-blushing at his own heat, he whisked in and left me to my thoughts.
And so I learned for the first time, my dears, that my good comrade had been struck by the little god's arrows.

When a man's years number one score, love springs up in him, as the gourd grew in the Scriptures, in a single night.

I have told my story ill if I have not made you understand that my friend was a frank, warm-hearted lad of impulse, whose reason seldom stood sentry over his inclinations.

Such a man can no more draw away from a winning maid than the needle can shun the magnet.

He loves as the mavis sings or the kitten plays.