In vain he fondly urged his suit, And, all in vain, the question put; She answered,—"Mr. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. “I thank you for your advice,” she said. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast.
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