You must not love her any more." "No, I must not love her any more," agreed Annie, "and that is the pity of it.

I must not love her, Alice, but I must pity her until I die.

Poor Margaret!" "Poor Annie," said Alice.

"You worked so hard over that book, dear, and you were so pleased.

Annie, what shall you do about it ?" Annie raised her head from Alice's bosom and sat up straight, with a look of terror.
"Alice," she cried, "I must go to-morrow and see my publishers.