try to do what _I_ did? Men differ so in their virtues, and are
so alike in their transgressions. This forward gosling displayed
white duck pantaloons, brandished pumps on his feet, which looked
flat enough to have been webbed, and was scented as to his marital
locks with a far-reaching pestilence of bergamot and cinnamon.

After they were gone I strolled back to my arbor and sat down amid
the ruins of Sylvia's flowers. The nigh was mystically beautiful.
The moon seemed to me to be softly stealing down the sky to kiss
Endymion. I looked across towards Georgiana's window. She was
there, and I slipped over and stood under it.

"Georgiana," I whispered, "were you, too, looking at the moon?"

"Part of the time," she said, sourly. "Isn't it permitted?"

"Sylvia left her scissors in the arbor, and _I_ can't find them."

"_She'll_ find them to-morrow."

"If they get wet, you know, they'll rust."

"I keep something to take rust off."

"Georgiana, I've got something to tell you about Sylvia."

"What? That you kissed her?"

"N--o! Not _that_, exactly!"