Unless you can love as the angels may,
With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behooving and unbehooving;
Unless you can DIE when the dream is past--
Oh, never call it loving!"


In love a woman's first right is to be protected from her friends
while she considers the man whom she contemplates loving. The
well-meant blundering of vitally interested friends has spoiled many a
promising love affair, which might have resulted in a marriage so much
above the ordinary that it could be termed satisfactory even by the
most captious.

At no time in a girl's life has she a greater right to work out her
own salvation in fear and trembling than during the period known among
girls as "making up her mind." If she is the right kind of a girl,
honest and delicate minded, it is nerve-racking to be talked about,
and sacrilege to be talked to. Then the bloom is on the grape, which a
rude touch mars forever.

Yet these kind friends never think of the delicate, touch-me-not
influences at work in the girl's soul, or that the instinct to hide
her real interest in the man precludes the possibility of her daring
to ask to be let alone. So they, in their over-zeal and ambition,
either make the path of love so easy and inevitable that all the zest
is taken out of it for both (for lovers never want somebody to go
ahead and baste the problem for them; they want to blind-stitch it for
themselves as they go along), or else, by critical nagging, and