And you, pray what may you give him?
Yourself?
A prodigious waste! But your father's yellow--" "Don't go on, or I shall refuse to listen.

It is wrong of you." So Frona made her cease, and then, with bold inconsistency, "And what may the woman Lucile give him ?" "Some few wild moments," was the prompt response; "a burning burst of happiness, and the regrets of hell--which latter he deserves, as do I.

So the balance is maintained, and all is well." "But--but--" "For there is a devil in him," she held on, "a most alluring devil, which delights me, on my soul it does, and which, pray God, Frona, you may never know.

For you have no devil; mine matches his and mates.

I am free to confess that the whole thing is only an attraction.