March died a slow death, and April sprang forth with all its naivete and unlike March, without a trace of cunning wile. But here I am down with life almost as if it has wasted unto the fragments of half remembered dreams. At such times, the heart desires to break the laws and forget the principles. But conscience, turned tyrant, held Passion by the throat, told her tauntingly, she had yet but dipped her dainty foot in the slough, and swore that with that arm of iron he
would thrust her down to unsounded depths of agony. He reasoned : laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. And as such, I acceptted my conscience and agreed to continue with this ever going life.
