“Quite right,” she said. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. You are my wife, and I am determined to claim you. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. U. I burned it. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. “It rained the whole of the time, but we saw all the sights, and the place never seemed dull. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. What had she to do with such as these? She had hard work to keep a smiling face, as Mrs. Their poor hands!” “I know,” said Mr.
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