"They are very pretty, some of them," said the Woman of the World; "not the sort of letters I should have written myself." "I should like to see a love-letter of yours," interrupted the Minor Poet. "It is very kind of you to say so," replied the Woman of the World. "It never occurred to me that you would care for one." "It is what I have always maintained," retorted the Minor Poet; "you have never really understood me." "I believe a volume of assorted love-letters would sell well," said the Girton Girl; "written by the same hand, if you like, but to different correspondents at different periods. To the same person one is bound, more or less, to repeat oneself." "Or from different lovers to the same correspondent," suggested the Philosopher. "It would be interesting to observe the response of various temperaments exposed to an unvaried influence. It would throw light on the vexed question whether the qualities that adorn our beloved are her own, or ours lent to her for the occasion. Would the same woman be addressed as 'My Queen!' by one correspondent, and as 'Dear Popsy Wopsy!' by another, or would she to all her lovers be herself?"