I don’t know. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. Which, if we are not all of us very careful indeed, will be stolen from Miss Charvill. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. ” “And my heart has ached for him!” “Oh, no doubt it cut him at the time.
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