female voices."]

I maintain, then, that CECILIA was pretty, and very pretty; pleasant,
and very pleasant. No doubt she keeps those qualities yet. I do not
believe in the syllogism by which a man persuades himself that he was
a fool, that he had a lucky escape, that a girl becomes quite another
person, and usually very stout and stupid, because she has preferred
someone else to himself. No, if we met to-morrow--But Fortune forbid
that we should meet to-morrow, or any other day! I have no relics of
CECILIA. I had some,--an old glove, a lash of a riding-switch, and
other trifles. I kept them in the secret drawer of a bureau, and in
my absence that bureau was traded away for a new æsthetic article,
relics and all, of course. Perhaps some minor poet bought the piece
of furniture, and found the things, and wrote a poem on them. That is
what makes me uncomfortable. If CECILIA sees the poem in one of the
Magazines, and remembers the incidents which the souvenirs recall,
she will certainly not be pleased with me, whether she fancies that I
wrote the poem, or that I forgot all about the treasures, and traded
their receptacle away. Life is really very complicated.

I met CECILIA at a house in the country. We sat next each other at
dinner. I found her charming. We had the same taste in novels,--she
knew Miss AUSTEN almost off by heart, and, like me, she was very fond
of field sports. I flattered myself that she did not find my company
uncongenial. In the evening there was a little dance: I don't dance,
or at least, it was some time since I had danced, not in fact since
the used to make me take dancing lessons at school. How I hated
it! However, this time I thought it seemed very easy and pleasant,
though the floor was extremely polished and slippery, dangerously
so. CECILIA, of course, was my partner. You know how they describe