My dear, I cannot conceive of you
as the Pirate's Own. Dear Phil, I want you to succeed. I do want you to
make money, a lot of it. I like to think you are wanted and appreciated,
and that you can get paid better and better for what you do. Sell your
manuscripts for as good a price as you can get. Yes, dear, sell your
manuscripts, but don't sell your soul."

XX

Did Miss McDonald tell Evelyn of her meeting with Philip in Central Park?
The Scotch loyalty to her service would throw a doubt upon this. At the
same time, the Scotch affection, the Scotch sympathy with a true and
romantic passion, and, above all, the Scotch shrewdness, could be trusted
to do what was best under the circumstances. That she gave the least
hint of what she said to Mr. Burnett concerning Evelyn is not to be
supposed for a moment. Certainly she did not tell Mrs. Mavick. Was she
a person to run about with idle gossip? But it is certain that Evelyn
knew that Philip had given up his situation in the office, that he had
become a reader for a publishing house, that he had definitely decided to
take up a literary career. And somehow it came into her mind that Philip
knew that this decision would be pleasing to her.

According to the analogy of other things in nature, it would seem that
love must have something to feed on to sustain it. But it is remarkable
upon how little it can exist, can even thrive and become strong, and
develop a power of resistance to hostile influences. Once it gets a
lodgment in a woman's heart, it is an exclusive force that transforms her
into a heroine of courage and endurance. No arguments, no reason, no
considerations of family, of position, of worldly fortune, no prospect of
immortal life, nothing but doubt of faith in the object can dislodge it.
The woman may yield to overwhelming circumstances, she may even by her
own consent be false to herself, but the love lives, however hidden and
smothered, so long as the vital force is capable of responding to a true
emotion. Perhaps nothing in human life is so pathetic as this survival
in old age of a youthful, unsatisfied love. It may cease to be a
passion, it may cease to be a misery, it may have become only a placid
sentiment, yet the heart must be quite cold before this sentiment can
cease to stir it on occasion--for the faded flower is still in the memory
the bloom of young love.

They say that in the New Education for women love is not taken into
account in the regular