whatever she is like enough to be.”

“Good heavens!” said I. “Are you brooding on her still?”

Yet, I myself was thinking of her, too; and because of it a strange, slow anger was possessing me.

“Thank God,” thought I to myself, “no woman of the common class could win a second glance from me. In which,” I added with satisfaction, “I am unlike most other men.”

A Philistine thought the same, one day — if I remember right.