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 he knew, or hoped, she would make. What a strange compound is a man in love! He has figured in books for many a century, but who has depicted him as he really is? John was no less himself because of a new feeling; other traits were not forced to the background to make room for this new-comer; but could not all the world see that all else had to stand aside, just a little? Even he thought this might be true, and he would that the world were blind. He was only sure of his own feelings, and in that blessed state of hopefulness as to Ruth that enabled him to think whatsoever best pleased him at the moment; but he also knew the storm that would break over his head if Matthew Watson knew positively he was seriously inclined. "What will come of all this, doggie? Come, now: two pats of your tail on the dead leaves for 'good' and three for 'no good;'" but the dog stood up when spoken to, and wagged his tail so rapidly, John could not count. "Well, what does that mean? Is everybody opposed to me, and this means brushing me away. Come, doggie, speak out." And the