Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. He stood back and held her shoulders. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. In a momentary fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the easel. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. ” “Why not? Your spirits at least should be good.
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