Gargle. Name? Miss Pestle ! Capper. Pestle! Pestle! Why, she's your— Gargle. She was left to my guardianship when very young. You must remember her, I'm sure. Miss Pestle. She has a nice fortune of her own, and as I take a great interest in you, Bob, I don't see why you should not have the money as well as another. Miss Pestle, recollect. [Going. Capper. I remember her, of course. I shall know her again, trust me. Little girl about that high. Gargle. [coldly.] Yes, but she's higher now. Capper. Of course she is, of course! Puffy, I used to call her-don't you recollect? And she used to call me Cobby. Puffy! Gad, I shall be rejoiced to see her again. Little girl, ten years old. I recollect. Ha, ha! Gargle. [severely.] But she's older now. Capper. Ha, ha! Of course she is. Know her again? I should know her among a thousand; little short sleeves with pink ribbons in 'em and a pink sash, and little short petticoats, andGargle. [angrily.] But confound it, sir, she wears them longer than that now. Don't be a fool, Bob; let's have no false sentiment about it. You're in want of money; she has got more than she knows what to do with. That's reason enough for your marrying. [Pausing.] By the way, you had better lose no time in coming to the point, as we leave for the north to-morrow morning for a stay of three months. Capper. To-morrow morning? [Aside.] And before they return I shall have left for the-north for a stay of four years. [Aloud.] But hang it, sir, I can scarcely propose to her at the first interview. Gargle. Can't you? And why not, pray? You've known her ever since she was born. What would the fellow have? You don't require a longer acquaintance than that, I suppose? Capper. Well, but, sir, she mayn't be as prepared to like me as I am to like her. Gargle. Oh, don't you be afraid. She retained a ridiculously affectionate recollection of you; and when we were in Italy never saw a picture without wondering whether Bob could paint like that, or what Bob would give to be there; and it was Bob this and Bob that and Bob t'other, till I was sick of your very name, sir. Capper. Thank you, sir; I am sorry thatGargle. Oh, a fig for your apologies. Marry|| her, and I'll forgive you. I'll send her for-ah! for you to make a sketch of her for me. I'll send is no longer to be borne, and as for four years in the Arctic regions in search of an impossible Flora! gad, we shall spend our time in singing to the Esquimaux, "Shepherds, tell us true, have you seen your Flora pass this way?" [A knock at the door.] Come in. Enter PADDLES, C. Oh! Mr.-Mr. Paddles, I think. No, nothing today, Mr. Paddles, thank you. Paddles. You mistake the purpose of my call, sir. I took the liberty of calling, Mr. CapperCapper. Yes, I'm glad you see the matter in its right light. It was a liberty, Mr. Paddles. Paddles. I am sorry you think so, sir, but I came for my money. Capper. Ah, you relieve me. I was afraid you came for mine. Paddles. Money owing, allow me to remind you, sir, belongs to the creditor-not the debtor! Capper. No doubt you're right. At any rate, in the present instance I can take my oath [feeling in his pockets] it doesn't belong to the debtor. Paddles. The money you owe me is in reality mine, and I've a right to demand it when I want it. I want it now, as I owe it to my landlord, and must pay it to-morrow morning. Capper. Indeed! So this money, after all, belongs, on your own showing, to your landlord-does not belong to you at all! Now what the dickens have I to do with your landlord? Paddles. What, sir? It's no good talking. I must have this money, or I can't pay my bills! Capper. Can't pay your bills? Paddles. No, sir, I can't! Capper. You can't? And yet you have the face to come to me and insist upon my doing what you confess your inability to do yourself! Paddles. I don't want to argue, sir. Capper. Exactly what I'm always repeating, but I never get it! Paddles. [violently.] But I intend to get mine before I go. Capper. Ah, but the best intentions sometimes go for nothing. Paddles. And if I don't Capper. Yes-I'm curious as to the alternative. Paddles. I'll put you in the court. Capper. Ah! [Rising.] Good morning! Paddles. I'll put you in the court as sure as you're born, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Capper. [looking after him.] Stingy brute! Instead of behaving like a man and a brother-I Capper. Perhaps; but I was born to blush unmean an uncle-and ransoming me out of hand, seen, so-[Knock.] Gad! there's a knock. That he advises me to sell myself for good and all. Í must be Miss Pestle, surely. I must get him out. hate the thought of marrying for money. But no- [To him.] That's all settled, then. I knew that hang it! this is not marrying for money. By Jove! now I come to think of it, I've been in love with that girl all my life. [Affectionately.] Puffy, Puffy! I declare I have. And though perhaps I have been unconscious even to myself of this for some time, yet that proves nothing, for love "Grows like the summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen, but crescive in his faculty." And that is my case all over. My love has grown like the summer grass; so, hang it all, let's cut the crop now the time's arrived, and make hay: while the sun shines; for this perpetual dunning we should understand each other before we had done. This way, this way out. [Opening door R.] You'll put me in the court? Yes, and present me yourself, won't you? [Aside.] By Jove! there's the rustle of a dress! [Aloud.] So good of you— come along. [Exit with PADDLES, L., who is speechless with indignation. As they go out by side door, MRS. MILLS enters through folding doors, conducting ANNIE and BERTHA. Mrs. M. What name shall I say, please? Mrs. M. Only Miss Pestle? Bertha. If you say Miss Pestle it will be quite enough. [Exit MRS. MILLS, L. Annie. My dear Bertha, why not say both names? He will think it so strange. Bertha. What will he think strange? Annie. Why, finding two people here, when he only expected one. Bertha. But, Annie, you surely don't suppose that Mr. Capper expects Miss Pestle to come and call upon him all by herself, do you? He'd think that strange, if you like. Annie. I don't see why he should. I shouldn't if I were a man. Besides, Bertha, I believe he won't know which of us is which! Bertha. Not? Oh, Annie, I've such an idea: let us try whether he will or not. Annie. Try? How? Bertha. Why, leave him to find it out for himself. Throw no light upon the matter at all. Let him what do they call it?-evolve it from his own inner consciousness, you know. Annie. No, no, Bertha ! Capper. [aside.] No, this is she. [In a soft voice, turning towards her.] And no one's praise could be so delightful as Bertha. Charming is no word for it. Capper. [aside.] Stay. I'm wrong. [In a soft voice to BERTHA. The labor of years is more than repaid by approval from such lips as— Annie. [pointing to other picture.] Dear me, what a lovely face! Exactly like one of Lawrence's. Capper. [aside.] H'm! First impressions are truest it seems. This is she. [In a soft voice to ANNIE.] Do you think it so lovely? Ah, it is a reflected beauty that shines upon the picture now, and gives it Bertha. [suddenly.] Oh, dear! Bertha. A Raffaelle, surely. [Pointing to another.] An original Raffaelle. Capper. [aside.] Second thoughts are best after all. This is she. [Aloud, in a soft voice to BERTHA.] Not a Raffaelle. No, "A poor thing, but mine own." You look with too favorable an me-eye at it. Ah! how have I longed for the moment when I might show these efforts of my brush Look to her-the thought of whom door Bertha. Yes, yes, you must, to oblige come, you will. There! hark! there's a banged. He's coming. What grand fun! at this picture. What is it, I wonder? Enter CAPPER, lightly, L.; he stops suddenly. Capper. [aside.] Two of 'em! Flushed a brace, by George! Well, but-hang it all!-which is Bertha. [the GIRLS have their backs to him and are looking at picture.] I think it's some one between Scylla and Charybdis. Mills! Capper. [aside.] I think it is, indeed. [Calling Miss Mrs. M. Don't know, sir. They said if I said Miss Pestle it would do for both. Capper. Did they? By Jove, it's done for me as well. Well, but, what is the other one's name - whichever is the other? Mrs. M. I can't say, sir. Capper. Then you can go, Mills. [Exit MRS MILLS, C.] Old idiot! 'Pon my word, this is excessively nasty. How the dickens am I to tell her that her image has never been effaced from my heart, when I don't know her again when I see her? Well, it will be easy enough to find out. Here goes. Annie. I'll tell you what I think it is; it's the Judgment of Paris-only where's Venus? Capper. [aside.] By Jove! I should be at no loss where to look for Venus. An uncommonly pretty girl. [Advancing.] Will you let me explain [The GIRLS turn and bow-CAPPER bows.] It is intended to illustrate the lines, "How happy could I be with either were t'other dear charmer away," and if it is a success [aside] the picture is, as the papers say, a worthy reflex of the painter's mind. [Pulls easel round slightly, and, while doing so, speaks without looking at either GIRL.] May I hope that you like it, Miss Pestle? [Listening eagerly for the answer. Bertha. Annie. S together. Oh, yes! Capper. [aside.] One at a time, please. Capper. [aside.] This is she. [Turning to her. Annie. [in a voice of deep admiration.] It's charming. Annie. [aside.] This will never do. [Aloud.] Surely, Mr. Capper, I have seen that picture somewhere? [Indicating picture.] Now, where ? It is so pleasant wandering about a treasure chamber of this kind, and having the genius of the place at one's elbow ready to explain everything. Oh! it must be a delightful thing to be an artist. Is it not, now? Capper. [meaningly.] Yes, now it is indeed. Bertha. And such an artist, who is certain as possible to reach the top of the tree. Capper. Well, perhaps, [aside] for I'm decidedly up it already. Annie. [looking round.] Such charming conceptions! [CAPPER turns to her. Bertha. Such felicitous execution! [CAPPER turns to her. Annie. Such beautiful color! [CAPPER to her. Bertha. Such splendid drawing. [CAPPER to her.. Annie. Oh! it's delightful! [CAPPER to her. Bertha. It is a privilege indeed! [CAPPER to her. Capper. [aside.] Well, I haven't a notion which is she. But this is pleasant enough, but hang it!-there's no time to lose. I must find out which of them is Annie. But that picture! It's a copy from some old master, I suppose. Now, where have I seen it? Bertha. Wait. Somewhere abroad, I'm sure. Capper. [aside.] Now, then, if the other has not been abroad Annie. Yes, abroad somewhere, Capper. [aside.] Now I have them, they've never both been to Bertha. Yes, where? Capper. [aside.] I have them now. [Aloud.] Ha, ha Miss Pestle's right, Miss Pestle's right. Annie. [aside to BERTHA.] How deep of him, for I'm sure he does not know which of us it is. Bertha. [aside.] Not deep enough, though. [Aloud.] Gracious, was that twelve striking? We've not a moment to lose if we're to be painted. Capper. Ah, yes, I understand that I am to have the honor of painting Miss Pestle. Capper. Oh! no R. [Aside, as he fetches canvas.] There again. All their replies are Greek to me-most particularly Greek, for whenever I ask a question that should clear up the mystery, they answer in the dual number-and-hang it! I must make love to one at once-one at once! Why, of course, I can't make love to both together. Annie. Now, shall we get upon this thing, Mr. Capper. [Pointing to throne. Capper. Yes, mount the throne, please. Annie. The throne you call it, eh? Then the arts are not, like literature, a republic, it seems? Capper. Most certainly not; they are a tyranny, a tyranny of forty. Now, [placing chair on throne] if, [to BERTHA] as I suggested before, you would sit Bertha. Eh! I? [To Capper. Eh? Oh, no, of course it wasANNIE. I thought that if you would sitAnnie. I now, eh? Capper. [much embarrassed.] You now, ha, ha! [Aside, turning away.] Confound that old Gargle for leaving me in the dark in this way. Oh! if our positions were only reversed; if I were the uncle and he the nephew, wouldn't I cut him off with a shilling! [Turning, and struck suddenly with the pretty position into which the GIRLS had fallen.] Oh, capital! I'll just put it in as rapidly as I can on this small canvas. [Beginning to sketch.] It's a delicious position, so easy and natural. Bertha. May we speak? Capper. By all means. However good their position, I could not expect two ladies to sit for an hour without speaking, of course. Bertha. That would not be easy, certainly. Capper. And I'm sure it would not be natural. Annie. I don't see that it would be either difficult or unnatural. Mr. Capper thinks, of course, that a woman must be talking, and can't keep a secret, and all that nonsense. Capper. Pardon me! I think that a woman can keep a secret confoundedly tight! [Aside.] When she doesn't know that it is a secret. Annie. Well, I've a good mind not to open my mouth till the sitting's over, to prove it to you. Capper. What! won't you answer if I ask you questions? Annie. If you do I shall answer as literally as possible; so you may begin as soon as you like. Capper. [aside.] That's a good notion. [Aloud.] Suppose I begin regularly, catechism-fashion, the What is your name? Ha, ha! [Watching eagerly. Annie. [promptly.] N. or M. Bertha. [aside to her.] Well done. Capper. [aside.] Hang it! [Aloud.] Ha, ha! That's no answer. [4side.] The little witch! I declare, she'd puzzle an Old Bailey lawyer. [The GIRLS whisper and smile. Bertha. Do you think I am much changed since you saw me last, Mr. Capper? Capper. [startled and staring at them.] Eh! I beg pardon. Bertha. Do you think I am much altered? Should you have known your old friend again? Capper. [aside.] There, the murder's out! [Aloud.] Know you again, Miss Pestle! [Aside.] Hang it! I wish it had been the other one. [Aloud.] Know you again! I should have known you anywhere-anywhere. [Aside.] How utterly changed she is. Annie. But, like all true geniuses, Mr. Capper makes no parade of his knowledge. Bertha. You've not forgotten me, then, all this long time I've been in Italy? Capper. Forgotten you, Miss Pestle! I should not have forgotten you if you had been all the time at the antipodes. [Aside.] Never saw anybody so altered. [Aloud.] Do you think I could forget what I have had by heart for years? Have my eyes played the traitors to my heart? Annie. Oh, dear, no, Mr. Capper, your eyes were honest enough. They betrayed no recognition at all, I assure you. But I beg pardon, I'm afraid my talking must interrupt you sadly. Capper. On the contrary, it helps me. I always get on better when I work to music. [Aside.] Hang it! Why did I not say that to the heiress? Bertha. There, my dear, what are you going to do for that? Annie. If Mr. Capper will let me get up I'll make a courtesy. Capper. No, no; don't move, pray-unless I'm tiring you. If you are tired— Annie. I'm not at all tired, indeed. I could sit as long as you wanted me, I'm sure. Capper. Then you could sit forever. [Aside.] There I go again. Bertha. [aside.] I think I'll get out of the way. Capper. [aside.] What a fool I am! I keep saying these things to the wrong one. I must say something pointed to Miss Pestle- something warm. [Aloud.] Did_you-hem!-did you like the sunny south, Miss Pestle? Bertha. Oh, yes, it was so bright and cheerful. England seems such a gloomy place after it. Capper. Ah! [Aside.] Hate a woman who slights her native country. [Aloud.] I suppose that we are scarcely as well off for sunshine Bertha. Oh, the sun that you get here is not the real sun, I assure you. The true sun never leaves dear Italy. Your sunlight is merely Annie. Sunlight adulterated for importation to apparently, a great deal. [Aloud.] Then if you England; eh, my dear? Well, for my part I pre- go, I suppose I must go too. fer the adulteration. Capper. Ha, ha, ha! [Aside.] Give me a girl who'll stand up for her country-even to its weather. That's something like patriotism. Bertha. And as if England were not bad enough, we are to go still farther north to-morrow. Oh, dear! Scotland for three months-just fancy that. Capper. [aside.] What is that to the North Pole for four years? Just fancy that. [Aloud.] Ah! you don't like Scotland? Bertha. Oh, no! I wish there were not such a place on the map. I should like to scratch it out, I declare. Capper. Ah! but that's not to be done. If scratching would do it, the natives would have had it out long since. And do you go too, Miss Bingham ? Annie. Oh, no, I am very fond of Scotland. Bertha. [aside.] I shall retire; I'm in the way, evidently. [Aloud.] O-oh! Annie. What is the matter, dear? Bertha. Oh, my-my foot's asleep; I must rise; my foot's asleep. | Rising and limping about. Annie. But you'll spoil the picture. Bertha. Oh! I can't help that. Capper. Well, is the foot awake now? [Limping about. Capper. Regular case of somnambulism, then? Bertha. [coming round till she gets within sight of the picture.] Well, I never! Annie. What's the matter now? Capper. Eh? anything wrong? Bertha. Wrong? Why, I declare, he has never done a bit of me. He has devoted himself entirely to you, and has expressed me by one-two-three lines, as if I were a triangle. [ANNIE makes a gesture of delight. Capper. I'm sure I beg a thousand pardonsBertha. Oh, don't attempt to apologize, Mr. Capper. Three lines! Yes! Now, do I bear any resemblance to a triangle-do I? Annie. Well, my dear, I think that in your present frame of mind, two lines, if properly arranged, [crosses her fingers] would present you very fairly, without any necessity for a third. Bertha. Ah! you may laugh; but if you'd been treated as if you were a proposition of Euclid, you wouldn't take it so quietly. Pray, put the letters at all my corners, Mr. Capper, and make a perfect problem of me. Annie. My dear, you are a perfect problem already, without the necessity for any letters. What makes you so cross? Mr. Capper must paint one at once. Capper. I assure you, Miss Pestle, I was just coming to you when Bertha. Oh, of course. But it doesn't matter. If it is impossible to paint two people at once I may as well go. Annie. But, my dear Capper. Nay, Miss Pestle, consider the picture, pray. Remember that I've not put you in at all. Annie. [aside.] No, but you've put her out, Capper. Oh, no, Miss Bingham, I beg that you'll remain at any rate. You've no notion what a capital position you are in. Bertha. [aside.] Neither have you. [Aloud.] There is no necessity for you to go, my dear. I'll call for you again directly, so wait here till I come. Good morning, Mr. Capper, or rather au revoir to you both. No, pray don't come down. Cupper. Oh, you must really permit me! [Opening door and following her out, c. Annie. What does Bertha mean by this? She was not really angry; it was all put on. I fancy she thinks--yes, I'm sure she thinks-I know what she thinks. That is why she left so suddenly. Re-enter CAPPER, C. Well, has she persisted in going? Capper. Yes, she departed inexorable. Put her best foot forwards, the wakeful one, and was gone. [Resuming his palette very thoughtfully.] By Jove, I was never so surprised in my life. Annie. As at what? Capper. Why, at Miss Pestle. I never saw any one so altered, and for the worse, too. Annie. Oh, Mr. Capper, she is considered very pretty. Do you mean to say you don't think so? Capper. Well-nothing extraordinary. Annie. Why, what would you have? Her eyes are splendid, and then what a complexion! I am sure she must be all your fancy painted her. Capper. I don't know about that. [Half aside.] I suspect there was more paint laid on than ever came from fancy's palette. Annie. 'And I should like to know where you'd see such hair as that again. Did you not notice it? It is hair that the more you look at it the more you admire it. It really grows upon you. Capper. [half aside.] Ah, but does it really grow upon her? That's the question. [Aloud.] Oh, I daresay she is all very well, but you should have seen her when she was eight or nine years old. Annie. [with affected indifference.] Was the child so pretty? Capper. Pretty! she was the most perfect little angel that ever appeared, was Puffy Pestle-Puffy I used to call her, you know; and she used to call me Cobby-angelical for Bobby. Gad! how she is gone off. Those pretty children often do; take their beauty as they do the measles have it young and get it over. Annie. It was curious that you recognized her. Capper. [consciously.] Very, very-[frankly] if I had recognized her; but to tell you the honest truth, Miss Bingham, I should not have known her from Adam-except for the drapery, of course. Annie. There! I knew you didn't. You didn't know whether she was Miss Pestle or I, did you now? Capper. Not in the least. I only knew which I should have liked it to have been. [Aside.] I say, take care, take care. Annie. Well, she is a sweet girl, and he will be a fortunate man who marries her. Capper. Why, it's not so very much, is it? Annie. Really, Mr. Capper! But the Arts must be a very lucrative profession if you can speak of her fortune in that slighting manner. Capper. Lucrative? The Arts? Street-sweeping is coining compared to it. Ah, Miss Bingham, you don't know what a hard, ungrateful life it is. Poring over a picture till you get almost color blind; working your fingers till till you might play the bones without the aid of other instruments than those which Nature has provided, and all for the wages of a scullery-maid." Annie. You can't be serious, Mr. Capper! Surely it's a noble profession. Think of the Emperor Charles picking up Titian's paint brush. Capper. Aye, aye, but those days are gone by. But pray forgive me for troubling you with complaints of this kind. Annie. [aside.] Can he be in want of money, poor fellow [Aloud.] They don't trouble me, indeed, except on your account. Annie. [with real distress in her voice.] Four years! Four-what madness! Capper. [aside.] If she continues that tone I shall be an engaged man before five minutes are over; I shall, indeed. Annie. What can induce you to go upon such a wild-goose chase as this, Mr. Capper? Capper. [aside.] She can't get the matrimonial notion out of her head. [Aloud.] What induces me? I'm-I'm obliged to. Annie. Where's the necessity? Annie. Here? Capper. [aside.] What perfect sympathy! Capper. Yes; you see I've strong hopes, if I acThat's just how they trouble me. Gad, if I don't company this expedition, to discover a North-west keep in mind that she is a poor relation, I shall-passage by which to avoid-my creditors. Ha, ha! hem! [Aloud.] You are very good; I'm sorry to hear that you are going away so soon. You leave for the North to-morrow, I think you said? Ah, I'm thinking of going to the North myself for a— hem! for a time. Annie. Indeed! whereabouts, if it's a fair question? We are going to Perthshire. Do you go so far as that? Capper. Yes, farther than that. Annie. Dear me, up to the very top? Capper. Yes, up to the very top. Annie. Oh, Mr. Capper, I envy you. Capper. Do you? [Aside.] Well, that view of it never occurred to me before. Annie. They say the climate is delicious up there so bracing. Capper. Ah, bracing, I've no doubt; but cold. Annie. Oh, nothing to speak of, and then the scenery is splendid. Capper. Of course; though there's perhaps a slight tendency to sameness of color; but what else could be expected up there? Annie. [startled.] Where? Capper. At the North Pole. [Sweetly.] Didn't I say the North Pole? Ah! I thought I did. Annie. [in disturbed voice.] No, you never mentioned the North Pole. Gracious, Mr. Capper! what are you going to that dreadful place for? Capper. [aside.] I declare, there is a tone of interest in her voice that-oh, if she weren't a poor relation or if I weren't! Annie. Do tell me, Mr. Capper, what on earth takes you up there? Capper. Well, you see, I'm going after the-in fact-flora of Annie. Flora? Oh, I beg pardon. I'm afraid I have been indiscreet. But perhaps I am to congratulate you. Capper. Quite the contrary, according to my idea. I think you misunderstood me. Our purpose is to investigate the fiora of the regions in the vicinity of the North Pole. The expedition is botanical, not matrimonial. Annie. Creditors? Then you're in debt? [Recollecting herself.] I beg a thousand pardons forCapper. [impetuously.] For what? For letting me feel that the most charming of her sex can take an interest in such a fellow as me? [Aside.] Now what am I saying? [Aloud.] I am most grateful for your sympathy, my dear Miss Bingham, but pray don't distress yourself for troubles of mine. I carry my poverty very easily, believe me; I distribute its inconveniences amongst my tradesmen, and so secure a fair and equal division of labor. Annie. But you don't know how grieved I am. Capper. Grieved! on my account? When to shield you from the slightest sorrow I would[Aside.] It's no good. I can't help it. Poor relation or not, it's all up with me. Annie. Can nothing persuade you to give up this wild project? Capper. I only know of one thing that will. She Capper. You tell me to stay. [Kneeling with one knee on the throne and taking her hand. does not answer. Enter MRS. MILLS, C. Mrs. M. Mr. Gargle and Miss Bingham! Enter GARGLE and BERTHA, C. Capper. Miss Bingham? [Jumping up.] You mean Miss Pestle! Gargle. Well, Bob, how have you and Miss Pestle been amusing yourselves, eh? Capper. Miss Pestle! you mean Gargle. Miss Bingham and I are naturally curious to know. Capper. Miss Bingham? you meanGargle. Have you found it possible to propose on a first interview, eh? Bertha. May I wish you joy, Miss Pestle? Capper. Miss Pestle again! Why, what does this mean? Isn't that Miss Will no one explain? And isn't that- Which is which? [To BERTHA.] Aren't you Miss Pestle and [to ANNIE] aren't you-[As a light breaks in upon him.] Bless my soul! why-Puffy! [Opening his arms. Annie. Cobby! [Embrace. Annie. Botanical? [Evidently relieved.] You don't mean to say you are going to look for flowers up there. Ha, ha! What do you expect Capper. By Jove, what a piece of luck! Why, to find? Snowdrops, I suppose, and Esquimaux if I hadn't let my heart run away with me, I should dog roses! Why, what a set of frozen-out gar-havedeners you will be! Does the expedition start from Hanwell, may I ask? Capper. Hanwell! [ With importance.] Government expedition, I assure you; capital pay; everything found; and only away for four years or so, unless delayed by some trifling accident peculiar to those regions. Oh, happy chance, when Love and Interest strove THE END. |