XI
The Widow's Deal.
"WHO is the ideal woman?" asked the widow pensively, laying down her embroidery hoop and clasping her hands behind her head.
The bachelor blew a smoke ring reflectively and squinted through it at the widow.
"You've got powder on your nose!" he remarked disapprovingly.
The widow snatched up a diaphanous lace handkerchief and began rubbing her nose.
"Have I got too much on?" she asked anxiously.
"Any," replied the bachelor, with dignified scorn, "is too much—in a man's eyes."
The widow laughed and stopped rubbing her nose.
"But it isn't in his eyes," she protested, "if it is put on so artistically that he doesn't see it. Getting it on straight is such an art!" and the widow sighed.