her heart full of bitterness because he had
tried to do such a thing and because she could not let him do such a
thing.

"Much good was the philter," said Mr. Middleton, remembering the
emir's gift, but almost at the same time, he recalled that the philter
had not been on his forehead when he attempted to embrace the young
lady of Englewood, for he had held his hat in his hand.

The farther he departed from her, the more his resentment grew, and he
declared to himself that he would never have anything more to do with
her. She was ungrateful, cold, haughty, not at all the kind of girl he
could wish as his partner for life. He would proceed to let her see
that he could do without her. He would cast her image from the temple
of his heart and never go near her again. For a moment, he was
disturbed by the thought that perhaps she would decline to receive
him, even if he should call, but he quickly banished this unpleasant
reflection and fell to devising means by which he might make it
clearly apparent to the young lady of Englewood that he did not care.

"I'll make her sorry. I'll show her I don't care, I'll show her I
don't care."

There is a restaurant under the basement of one of the larger and more
celebrated saloons of the city, where a genial Gaul provides, for the
modest sum of fifty cents, a course dinner, with wine. The wine is but
ordinary California claret, but the viands are excellently cooked and
of themselves sufficient inducement for a wight to part with half a
dollar without consideration of the wine. There are those who, in the
melancholy state that follows a disappointment in love, go without
food and drink, while others turn to undue indulgence in drink. There
are yet others, though few observers seem to have noted them, who turn
toward greater indulgence in food, seeking surcease and forgetfulness
of the pains of the heart in benefactions to the stomach.

It was very seldom that Mr. Middleton spent so much as fifty cents
upon a meal, but the conduct of the young lady of Englewood having
deprived him of any present object for laying up money, and, moreover,
the pains of the heart before alluded to demanding the vicarious
offices of the stomach, he went to the little French restaurant the
next evening.

It was somewhat late when he arrived and there were in the room but
two diners beside himself. These were a man and a woman, who by many
little obvious evidences made manifest that they were not husb