often spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?"

"That would indeed be unfortunate. Never hate, Ruth; besides making
enemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest and
loveliest."

"We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mocking
tarantulas."

"That is exaggerated, I think. Besides, Heaven forbid our loving
everybody! Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you. Love
only wears out the body and narrows the mind, all to no purpose. Cupid,
you know, died young, or wasted to plainness, for he never had his portrait
taken after he matured."

"A character such as you would have would be unbearable."

"But sensible and wise."

"Happily our hearts need no teaching; they love and hate instinctively
before the brain can speak."

"Good--for some. But in me behold the anomaly whose brain always
reconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worth
while to signal either 'love' or 'hate.'"

He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano. The unbecoming blush
mounted slowly to Ruth's face and her eyes were bright as she watched him.
When his hands touched the keys, she spoke.