Some of my dreams knew the bitterness of regret.

"Men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love." Yet, no man who has loved and lost can go through his allotted time without the consciousness that he has missed something, something which leaves each triumph empty and incomplete.
And then, right in the midst of my dreams, a small foot planted itself.
I turned my head and saw a woman.

On seeing the bright end of my cigar, she stopped.

She stood so that the light of the moon fell full upon her face.
My cigar trembled and fell.
"Phyllis!" I cried, springing to my feet, almost dumbfounded, my heart nigh suffocating me in its desire to leap forth.

"Phyllis!--and here?
What does this mean ?" The woman looked at me with a puzzled frown, but did not answer.