“At seventeen she had learned what styles of attire, what arrangements of her hair, were best suited to display effectively her comeliness.
“This was one of the greatest steps of all.
“The simplest draperies, she found, the least complicated headgear, were most advantageous to her appearance.
“A taste for reading the most ideal and artistic of books, as well as her liking for poetry, the theatre, music, and pictures had implanted that exalted something in her face which cannot be otherwise acquired.
“When she was eighteen people on the street turned to look at her as she passed.
“At nineteen her figure was unsurpassable. Indeed, I think there cannot be a more beautiful and charming woman in America. She is now twenty.
“It was my privilege to view closely the bursting of this bud into bloom.”
The fin de siècle versewright became silent and lighted a fresh cigarette.
“Will you permit me to ask,” said I, “what were the especial facilities that you had for observing this evolution?”
“Yes,” he answered, softly, a tender look coming into his eyes. “She is my wife. She was thirteen when I married her. Suddenly placed without means of subsistence, knowing nothing of the world, she came to me. I could see no other way. We are very happy together.”