hearty laugh which spoke of unimpaired contentment, a soul
untroubled in its deeps. He seemed to himself the luckiest
fellow in the whole round world; he could not think what he had
done to deserve the good fortune of possessing such a girl as
Henriette. He was ordinarily of a somewhat sentimental turn--
easily influenced by women and sensitive to their charms.
Moreover, his relationship with Lizette had softened him. He had
learned to love the young working girl, and now Henriette, it
seemed, was to reap the benefit of his experience with her.

In fact, he found himself always with memories of Lizette in his
relationships with the girl who was to be his wife. When the
engagement was announced, and he claimed his first kiss from his
bride-to-be, as he placed a ring upon her finger, he remembered
the first time he had kissed Lizette, and a double blush suffused
his round countenance. When he walked arm and arm with Henriette
in the garden he remembered how he had walked just so with the
other girl, and he was interested to compare the words of the
two. He remembered what a good time had had when he had taken
Lizette and her little family for a picnic upon one of the
excursion steamers which run down the River Seine. Immediately
he decided that he would like to take Henriette on such a picnic,
and he persuaded an aunt of Henriette's to go with her as a
chaperon. George took his bride-to-be to the same little inn
where he had lunch before.

Thus he was always haunted by memories, some of which made him
cheerful and some of which made him mildly sad. He soon got used
to the idea, and did not find it awkward, except when he had to
suppress the impulse to tell Henriette something which Lizette