these bows of lace and furbelows — this little patch making my rose cheeks rosier — this frost of powder on my hair! All these I wear, Euan, so that man’s delight in me may do you honour. All I am to please them — my gaiety, my small wit, which makes for them crude verses, my modesty, my decorum, my mind and person, which seem not unacceptable to a respectable society — all these are but dormant qualities that you have awakened and inspired — — ”

She broke off short, tears filling her eyes:

“Of what am I made, then, if my first and dearest and deepest thought be not for you? And such a man as this is jealous!”

I caught her hands, but she bent swiftly and laid her hot cheek for an instant against my hand which held them.