Nothing good can come of it for you.'" "Did Jennie know who the gentleman was ?" I asked.
"No," returned Dorothy.
"How do you know who he was ?" "Jennie described him," she said.
"How did she describe him ?" I asked.
"She said he was--he was the handsomest man in the world and--and that he affected her so powerfully she fell in love with him in spite of herself.
The little devil, to dare! You see that describes him perfectly." I laughed outright, and the girl blushed painfully.
"It does describe him," she said petulantly.

"You know it does.

No one can gainsay that he is wonderfully, dangerously handsome.

I believe the woman does not live who could refrain from feasting her eyes on his noble beauty.

I wonder if I shall ever again--again." Tears were in her voice and almost in her eyes.
"Dorothy! My God, Dorothy!" I exclaimed in terror.
"Yes! yes! My God, Dorothy!" she responded, covering her face with her hands and sighing deeply, as she dropped her head and left me.
Yes, yes, my God, Dorothy! The helpless iron and the terrible loadstone! The passive seed! The dissolving cloud and the falling rain! Less than a week after the above conversation, Dorothy, Madge, and I were riding from Yulegrave Church up to the village of Overhaddon, which lies one mile across the hills from Haddon Hall.