Painted upon a background of pale gold.'

"or

'Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself?
Do I live in a house you would like to see?'

"or

'I am a Painter who cannot paint,
----No end to all I cannot do.
_Yet do one thing at least I can,
Love a man, or hate a man!_'

"or just

'Escape me?
Never,
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you!'

"Oh, Honey! Won't it be fun? Just you and I, perhaps, in all
this Big City, sitting up and thinking about each other.
Can you smell the white birch smoke in this letter?"

[Illustration: "Well I'll be hanged," growled Stanton, "if I'm going
to be strung by any boy!"]

Almost unconsciously Stanton raised the page to his face.
Unmistakably, up from the paper rose the strong, vivid scent--of a