I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. " She showed him the locket; and he studied the face. It has been very humiliating. " "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. CHAPTER XXVIII. "I'll not believe it. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. To tell someone who is kind and who will understand!" "There, there!" he said. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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