Some women are willing to give up all to see
the man they love made happy. My sister is one of those. But I shall
refuse the gift. Jack, can you not see that the poor woman thinks that
you love me?" Phyllis was looking at me with the greatest possible
kindness.
"I know not what she thinks. I only know that she has written me that
she is sorry for having played with my affections. Phyllis, if she
loved me she would not leave me as she has done."
"Oh, these doubting Thomases!" exclaimed Phyllis. "How do you know
that she does not love you? Have you one true proof that she does not?
No; but you have a hundred that she does."
"But--"
"Do you love her?" demanded Phyllis, stamping her foot with impatience.
"Love her? Have I not told you that I do?" gloomily.
"And will you give her up because she writes you a letter? What has
ink to do with love and a woman? If you do not set out at once to find
her, I shall never forgive you. She is my sister, and by that I know
that you cannot win her by sitting still. Go find her and tell her
that you will never leave her till she is your wife.
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