"See there!" Upon the margin of that captured sheet Eustace had exposed, as it were, the very secret mechanics of his passion.

There were written tentative rhymes, one under another, as "Kate--mate--Fate--late"-- and eke an unblushing "sate." Also had he, in the frenzy of his poetic rapture, divined and indicated the technical affinities existing among words like "bliss," "kiss," and "miss." Interference, however delicately managed, seemed hopeless after that, and I said as much.

But I added: "Of course, if you let him alone, he may come back to his better self.

Perhaps the young lady herself may prove to be your ally." "Indeed not! She has set out deliberately to ensnare my poor Euty," said the mother, with an incisive drawing in of her expressively thin lips.
"I knew it the very first evening I saw them together." "Mightn't it have been sheer trifling on her part ?" I suggested.
"Can you imagine that young woman _daring_ to trifle with Eustace Eubanks ?" she demanded.
I could, as a matter of fact; but as her query seemed to repel such a disclosure, I lied.
"True," I said, "she would never dare.

I didn't think of that." "With _all_ her frivolity and lightness of manner and fondness for dress, she must have some sense of fitness--" "She must, indeed!" "She could not go _that_ far!" "Certainly _not_!" "Even if she _does_ wear too many ribbons and laces and fancy furbelows, with never a common-sense shoe to her foot!" "Even if she _does_" I assented warmly.
And thus we were compelled to leave it.