patent pump'?"

The widow leaned so far over her soup that her eyes were completely shaded by the brim of her violet hat.

"Yes," she said gently, "loss of reason is one of them—and loss of memory."

"And loss of sleep?"

"And loss of common sense."

"And loss of self-respect?"[78]

[78]

"And of your powers of conversation."

"Nonsense!" cried the bachelor, "a man in love can say more fool things——"

The widow put down her spoon emphatically.

"A man in love," she contradicted, "can't talk at all? It's not the things he says, but the things he isn't able to say; the things that choke right up in his throat——"

"I've had that!" interrupted the bachelor.

"Had—what?"

"The 'love-lump' in the throat."

"And did you ever go up stairs to light the gas and turn on the water instead; or walk three blocks in the wrong direction without knowing it; or hunt ten minutes for your shoes[79] and then discover it was your collar button or your hat that you had lost?"

[79]

"Or add a column of figures and get a poem for the answer; or break your neck running to the office and then have to sit down and think what you came down early for; or begin a business letter 'Dearest Smith' and drop it in the box without a stamp, or read your paper upside down, or——"

"You've got it!" cried the widow.

"I know it," sighed the bachelor, "dreadfully!"

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