"
"It's a devilish situation," he cried, impatiently striding up and
down the room, "that a man of my age should be so hopelessly in love
with a woman he can't find; and that he can't find her is such a
cruel sarcasm upon his literary creed! What cursed idiosyncrasy of
fate is it that has brought this thing upon me?"
"It's the punishment that fits your crime, Harley," I said. "You've
been rather narrow minded in your literary ideas. Possibly it will
make a more tolerant critic of you hereafter, when you come to flay
fellows like Balderstone for venturing to think differently from you
as to the sort of books it is proper to write. He has as much right
to the profits he can derive from his fancy as you have to the
emoluments of your insight."
"I'd take some comfort if I thought that she really loved me," he
said, mournfully.
"Have no doubt on that score, Stuart," I said. "She does love you.
I know that. I wish she didn't."
"Then why can't I find her? Why does she hide from me?" he cried,
fortunately ignoring my devoutly expressed wish, which slipped out
before I knew it.
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