"Finished?" suggested the bachelor.
The widow nodded cheerfully.
"Yes," she agreed, "and adjusted to matrimony. And even then sometimes he is a dreadful botch."
"And all his style is gone," sighed the bachelor.
The widow studied her Sévres cup thoughtfully.
"Well," she admitted, "sometimes the material is so bad or so skimpy—"
"So—what?"
The widow smiled patiently.
"Skimpy," she repeated. "There is so little to some men that the cleverest woman couldn't patch them up into a full-sized specimen. They are like the odds and ends left on the remnant counter. You have to do the best you can with them and then use Christian Science to make yourself believe they are all there and that the patches don't show. Haven't you ever seen magnificent women trailing little annexes after them like echoes or—or——"
"Captives in the wake of a conquering queen?" broke in the bachelor.