“I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. At last the panel swung back into the library. At least one of them was caught and put away. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school.
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