They belong to song-land.

To accept them I need a piano, a sympathetic contralto voice, a firelight effect, and that sentimental mood in myself, the foundation of which is a good dinner well digested.

But there are Darbys and Joans of real flesh and blood to be met with--God bless them, and send more for our example--wholesome living men and women, brave, struggling, souls with common-sense.

Ah, yes! they have quarrelled; had their dark house of bitterness, of hate, when he wished to heaven he had never met her, and told her so.

How could he have guessed those sweet lips could utter such cruel words; those tender eyes, he loved to kiss, flash with scorn and anger?
And she, had she known what lay behind; those days when he knelt before her, swore that his only dream was to save her from all pain.