put that card away, your countenance was so malevolent as to be terrific.
Thomas, I have heard of the envy of them that follows the Fine-Art line,
but I never believed it could be what yours is. I wish you well, but I
take my leave of you. And if you should ever got into trouble through
knifeing--or say, garotting--a brother artist, as I believe you will,
don't call me to character, Thomas, or I shall be forced to injure your
case."

Mr. Click parted from me with those words, and we broke off our
acquaintance.

I became enamoured. Her name was Henrietta. Contending with my easy
disposition, I frequently got up to go after her. She also dwelt in the
neighbourhood of the Obstacle, and I did fondly hope that no other would
interpose in the way of our union.

To say that Henrietta was volatile is but to say that she was woman. To
say that she was in the bonnet-trimming is feebly to express the taste
which reigned predominant in her own.

She consented to walk with me. Let me do her the justice to say that she
did so upon trial. "I am not," said Henrietta, "as yet prepared to
regard you, Thomas, in any other light than as a friend; but as a friend
I am willing to walk with you, on the understanding that softer
sentiments may flow."

We walked.

Under the influence of Henrietta's beguilements, I now got out of bed
daily. I pursued my calling with an industry before unknown, and it