I give my right hand to you, and you give yours to the preacher, and he gives his to some other girl, and she gives hers to some one else, like as not, who gives his to some one else, and the fiddle and the horn and the piano and the bass fid screech and toot and howl, and away we go and sigh under our breaths and break our hearts and swing our partners, and it's everybody dance." He looked up at her and smiled at his fancy.

For he was a poet and thought his remarks had some artistic value.
She smiled back at him, and he leaned on his elbows and looked up at her as he said quietly: "I'd like awful well, Nellie--awful well if you'd be my partner for the rest of this dance.

It's lonesome down there in the shop." The woman patted his hand, and they sat quietly for a while and then she said, "Maybe sometime, Watts, but not to-night." He got up, and stood for a moment beside her on the walk.

"Well," he said at length, "I suppose I must be moving along--as the wandering Jew said." He smiled and their eyes met in the moonlight.

Watts dropped his instantly, and exclaimed, "You're a terrible handsome girl, Nellie--?
did you know it ?" He repeated it and added, "And the Lord knows I love you, Nellie, and I've said it a thousand times." He found her hand again, and said as he put on his hat, "Well, good-by, Nellie--good-by--if you call that gone." His handclasp tightened and hers responded, and then he dropped her hand and turned away.
The woman felt a desire to scream; she never knew how she choked her desire.