With an "Ouch," of pain Stanton knocked the Doctor's hands away. "Burn
up my letters?" he laughed. "Well, I guess not! I wouldn't even burn
up the wall papers. I've had altogether too much fun out of them. And
as for the books, the Browning, etc.--why hang it all, I've gotten
awfully fond of those books!" Idly he picked up the South American
volume and opened the fly-leaf for the Doctor to see. "Carl from his
Molly," it said quite distinctly.

"Oh, yes," mumbled the Doctor. "It looks very pleasant. There's absolutely
no denying that it looks very pleasant. And some day--out of an old trunk,
or tucked down behind your library encyclopedias--your wife will discover
the book and ask blandly, 'Who was Molly? I don't remember your ever saying
anything about a "Molly".--Just someone you used to know?' And your answer
will be innocent enough: 'No, dear, _someone whom I never knew_!' But how
about the pucker along your spine, and the awfully foolish, grinny feeling
around your cheek-bones? And on the street and in the cars and at the
theaters you'll always and forever be looking and searching, and asking
yourself, 'Is it by any chance possible that this girl sitting next to me
now--?' And your wife will keep saying, with just a barely perceptible edge
in her voice, 'Carl, do you know that red-haired girl whom we just passed?
You stared at her so!' And you'll say, 'Oh, no! I was merely wondering
if--' Oh yes, you'll always and forever be 'wondering if'. And mark my
words, Stanton, people who go about the world with even the most innocent
chronic question in their eyes, are pretty apt to run up against an
unfortunately large number of wrong answers."

"But you take it all so horribly seriously," protested Stanton. "Why
you rave and rant about it as though it was actually my affections
that were involved!"

"Your affections?" cried the Doctor in great exasperation. "Your
affections? Why, man, if it was only your affections, do you suppose I'd
be wasting even so much as half a minute's worry on you? But it's your
_imagination_ that's involved. That's where the blooming mischief lies.
Affection is all right. Affection is nothing but a nice, safe flame that
feeds only on one special kind of fuel,--its own particular object.
You've got an 'affection' for Cornelia, and wherever Cornelia fails to
feed that affection it is mercifully ordained that the starved flame
shall go out into cold gray ashes without making any further trouble