"There's one important difference, Araminta," she said. "Your mother believes that beauty is simply goodness; Cato believes that goodness is simply wisdom. He'll turn you into a likeness of Minerva, with your wonderful raven locks metamorphosed into hissing feminist serpents."
The outer door opened and Mazie Ross burst in attired as Salome and looking as wicked and tempting as if she were a bacchante straight from the Venusberg.
"Hello, hasn't Carmen got her war paint on yet?" she called out, frowning on the group.
It was a pretty tableau she beheld. Robert, with folded arms, stood before the two young women, posed for a tremendous vindication. Cornelia, kneeling at her charge's feet, was absorbed in a final adjustment of the skirt; Janet, with outstretched arms, had just wheeled a full circle in response to her friend's touch. The two women were a picturesque pair, Cornelia's golden hair and alabaster skin, vitalized by the excitement, forming a vivid contrast to Janet's darker coloring.
"Please page the olive complexion and the Castilian nose," continued Mazie, in a merciless illumination of the favorite's two weak points.
Janet certainly lacked the challenging physical beauty that makes men forget the mental limitations of an Emma Hamilton or a Mme. de Recamier. Not that she was poor in physical charm. Far from it. She was straight and slender, with waving black hair, an exquisite complexion, and expressive gray eyes. Hers was a face that sobered naturally into thoughtful sympathy and softened readily into merriment or gentleness. True, her features lacked a chiseled perfection, (if that is perfection). But it was not for her body but for her spirit that she both craved and inspired love.
"Well, what's the big delay?" asked Mazie, flouncing somewhat impatiently to the covered washtubs on which she perched herself in such a way as to advertise extensively her new and pretty underthings.
"Cato is about to exalt us to rare moral heights," said Cornelia, resuming her scrutiny of the costume of Carmen.
"She thinks I'm a hard-shelled Puritan," said Robert, appealing to Mazie for support. "Do you agree with her?"
"Oh, give us a cigarette and stop your spoofing," said Mazie, who had a dread of high-flown talk. "I'm surprised that Rob's parson poses take you in, Cornelia. Believe me, he's just like other men when you get him alone on a starry night."