“I could not greet Mrs. Benson as usual this evening. I could not. She insisted, but I said I had a sore throat and might infect her. She said I must have a doctor, but I was firm, I declared I would get along all right. She came up with a mustard-plaster while I was retiring. I could not let her in. It was terrible. Several of the boarders heard her; I could hear them laughing. The knowledge of my turpitude debases me like a crawling worm. I have always striven to live an upright life, so that I could look all men and women in the face. My duty is plain. Shall I be a hypocrite and deceiver? Shall I give up my self-respect, which has meant so much to me all these years? I am in a terrible dilemma. “I will rise at five o’clock and leave the house before any one is stirring to-morrow morning. But what shall I do to-morrow evening? Heaven help and guide me! “And yet my heart is not able to be sorry that she was in again to-day. I had given up expecting her, and the sight of her confounded me. The blueness of her eyes is like still waters. Her brown hair is as soft as brown silk in the skein. Her gentleness restoreth my soul. Yes, though I walked through the Valley of Death, I would love her. I am a vile man, loathsome to myself. And I am a liar. I told Mrs. Benson I was kept at the store while in truth I was walking in Central Park. Through the night under the stars. Full of the thought of her. Full of poetry no one ever yet wrote the like of. Full of wonder and hope and exceeding glory and brightness. “She is a sampler. I ought to have suspected it ever since that clerk spoke about her taking samples of all those new mandarins and she never bought anything. She had an idea to do it on a large scale. Instead of being in the employ of only one rival store, she has eight she supplies samples to. She spends all her time supplying samples to the stores that employ her. But she’s afraid her idea won’t work. She dresses as different as she can, but the department managers get to recognize her, with unfortunate results.