"Gone," replied the wounded man. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. " "Impossible, dear Mrs. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. “I think I ought to have one. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye.
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