ina Sellars made literally my head to swim. Never before had I dared
to cast upon female loveliness the satisfying gaze with which I now
boldly regarded her every movement. Evidently she noticed it, for she
turned away her eyes. I had heard that exceptionally strong-minded
people merely by concentrating their will could make other, ordinary
people, do just whatever they, the exceptionally strong-minded people,
wished. I willed that Miss Rosina Sellars should turn her eyes again
towards me. Victory crowned my efforts. Evidently I was one of these
exceptionally strong-minded persons. Slowly her eyes came round and met
mine with a smile--a helpless, pathetic smile that said, so I read it:
"You know no woman can resist you: be merciful!"

Inflamed by the brutal lust of conquest, I suppose I must have willed
still further, for the next thing I remember is sitting with Miss
Sellars on the sofa, holding her hand, the while the O'Kelly sang a
sentimental ballad, only one line of which comes back to me: "For the
angels must have told him, and he knows I love him now," much stress
upon the "now." The others had their backs towards us. Miss Sellars,
with a look that pierced my heart, dropped her somewhat large head upon
my shoulder, leaving, as I observed the next day, a patch of powder on
my coat.

Miss Sellars observed that one of the saddest things in the world was
unrequited love.

I replied gallantly, "Whateryou know about it?"

"Ah, you men, you men," murmured Miss Sellars; "you're all alike."

This suggested a personal aspersion on my character. "Not allus," I
murmured.

"You don't know what love is," said Miss Sellars. "You're not old
enough."

The O'Kelly had passed on to Sullivan's "Sweethearts," then in its first
popularity.

"Oh, love for a year--a week--a day!
But oh for the love that loves al-wa-ay[s]!"

Miss Sellars' languishing eyes were fixed upon me; Miss Sellars' red
lips pouted and twitched; Miss Sellars' white bosom rose and fell.
Never, so it seemed to me, had so large an amount of beauty been
concentrated in one being.

"Yeserdo," I said. "I love you."

I stooped to kiss the red lips, but something was in my way. It turned
out to be a cold cigar. Miss Sellars thoughtfully removed it, and threw
it away. Our lips met. Her large arms closed about my neck and held me
tight.

"Well, I'm sure!" came the voice of Mrs. Peedles, as from afar. "Nice
goings on!"

I have vague remembrance of