H. And can you return them?

S. Yes.

H. And nothing more?

S. No, Sir.

H. You are an angel, and I will spend my life, if you will let me, in
paying you the homage that my heart feels towards you.



THE QUARREL





H. You are angry with me?

S. Have I not reason?

H. I hope you have; for I would give the world to believe my suspicions
unjust. But, oh! my God! after what I have thought of you and felt
towards you, as little less than an angel, to have but a doubt cross my
mind for an instant that you were what I dare not name--a common
lodging-house decoy, a kissing convenience, that your lips were as
common as the stairs--