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On his writing-table stood a bouquet of yellow roses. The moment I saw them I thought—those are from her.

I became a little depressed, and he noticed it. 'What is the matter?' he asked.

'Nothing.'

But shortly after I could not help saying: 'You have had flowers sent you. I suppose they are from———'

He interrupted me. 'Come, come, Julie, that is very naughty,' and he looked severely and quite sadly at me.

'Yes, I have every reason to be jealous, and you must tell me who sent you those flowers.'

I felt I was on the verge of tears and turned away my head. He took my hand, and at the same moment I burst into sobs. I tried to take away my hand, but he held it firmly, and went on holding it without a word till I stopped crying, then he said: 'Look here, little Julie. I have several times before told you that you had no reason to be jealous, and you have assured me that you never were. I see now that after all this is not quite true, so I am going to tell you a story which will prove to you how unreasonable is your jealousy, and knowing what a dear, sweet girl you are, I am sure you will believe what I am going to tell you, even if I don't mention names and details.

'Before I met you, I had a dear woman friend,