"I don＇t want to make you feel that; of course I can＇t say that. I only just want you to know one or two things—in fairness to myself, as it were. I won＇t return to the subject again. I felt very strongly what I expressed to you last year; I couldn＇t think of anything else. I tried to forget—energetically, systematically.I tried to take an interest in somebody else. I tell you this because I want you to know I did my duty. I didn＇t succeed. It was for the same purpose I went abroad—as far away as possible. They say travelling distracts the mind, but it didn＇t distract mine. I＇ve thought of you perpetually, ever since I last saw you. I＇m exactly the same. I love you just as much, and everything I said to you then is just as true. This instant at which I speak to you shows me again exactly how, to my great misfortune, you just insuperably charm me. There—I can＇t say less. I don＇t mean, however, to insist; it＇s only for a moment. I may add that when I came upon you a few minutes since, without the smallest idea of seeing you, I was, upon my honour, in the very act of wishing I knew where you were." He had recovered his self-control, and while he spoke it became complete. He might have been addressing a small committee—making all quietly and clearly a statement of importance; aided by an occasional look at a paper of notes concealed in his hat, which he had not again put on. And the committee, assuredly, would have felt the point proved.