eeing a thing, she would immediately set to inquiring
how she would look, properly related to it. Be it known that this is not
fine feeling, it is not wisdom. The greatest minds are not so afflicted;
and on the contrary, the lowest order of mind is not so disturbed.
Fine clothes to her were a vast persuasion; they spoke tenderly and
Jesuitically for themselves. When she came within earshot of their
pleading, desire in her bent a willing ear. The voice of the so-called
inanimate! Who shall translate for us the language of the stones?

"My dear," said the lace collar she secured from Partridge's, "I fit you
beautifully; don't give me up."

"Ah, such little feet," said the leather of the soft new shoes; "how
effectively I cover them. What a pity they should ever want my aid."

Once these things were in her hand, on her person, she might dream of
giving them up; the method by which they came might intrude itself so
forcibly that she would ache to be rid of the thought of it, but she
would not give them up. "Put on the old clothes--that torn pair of
shoes," was called to her by her conscience in vain. She could possibly
have conquered the fear of hunger and gone back; the thought of hard
work and a narrow round of suffering would, under the last pressure of
conscience, have yielded, but spoil her appearance?--be old-clothed and
poor-appearing?--never!

Drouet heightened her opinion on this and allied subjects in such a
manner as to weaken her power of resisting their influence. It is so
easy to do this when the thing opined is in the line of what we desire.
In his hearty way, he insisted upon her good looks. He looked at her
admiringly, and she took it at its full value. Under the circumstances,
she did not need to carry herself as pretty women do. She picked that
knowledge up fast enough for herself. Drouet had a habit, characteristic
of his kind, of looking after stylishly dressed or pretty women on the
street and remarking upon them. He had just enough of the feminine love
of dress to be a good judge--not of intellect, but of clothes. He saw
how they set their little feet, how they carried their chins, with what
grace and sinuosity they swung their bodies. A dainty, self-conscious
swaying of the hips by a woman was to him as alluring as the glint of
rare wine to a toper. He would turn and follow the disappearing vision
with his eyes. He would thrill as a child with the unhindered passion
that was in him. He loved the t