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, as I do, that falling in love goes by destiny, and that, of all affairs, those of the heart are those for which there is the least accounting, I have always thought, that to give reasons for its happening, is throwing the said reasons away—a waste much to be deprecated in an age where reasons are in such great request. It is not beauty that inspires love—still less is it mind. It is not situation—people who were indifferent in a moonlight walk, have taken a fit of sentiment in Piccadilly. It is not early association—indeed, the chances are rather against the Paul and Virginia style. It is not dress—conquests have been made in curl