with sprigs and posies, which displayed her smooth and delicately moulded throat above the low-pinned kerchief, and her lovely arms from the creamy elbow lace down to her finger tips.

The French hair-powder she wore was not sprinkled in any vulgar profusion; it merely frosted the rich curls, making her pink checks pinker and her grey eyes a darker and purpler grey, and rendering her lips fresh and dewy in vivid contrast. And she wore a patch on her smooth left cheek-bone. And it was a most deadly thing to do, causing me a sentimental anguish unspeakable.

As I sat there worshipping, enchanted, resentful, martyred, alternately aching with loneliness and devotion, and at the same time heartily detesting every man on whom she chanced to smile, comes a sly and fragrant breath in my ear.