Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. I don’t know that I understand altogether. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. ” “You’ll never pay me. Spurling. I'll lay my life he's gone. " "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet.
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