rather than be wooed by valley hawks; I am
only a very tired wren, who missed a mate on my first Valentine season,
and seeing my plumage grows a rusty brown, I accept the overtures of
one similarly forlorn, and hope for serene domesticity under the
sheltering eaves of some quiet, cosey barn. You are a nobler bird, no
doubt; but trust me dear, I shall be the happier."

Leo withdrew her hands, and pushed back her chair, widening the space
that divided them.

"You disappoint me keenly. I thought you too brave to crouch before the
jeers hurled at 'old maidenism'. Moral cowardice is the last flaw I
expected in one of your fibre."

"Wait till you are thirty-three, and stand as a target at Society's
archery meeting. Yesterday Celeste was pale with horror when she showed
me two white hairs pulled from my 'bangs', and added, 'Helas races! and
powdered hair no more the style!' My dear girl--

"'True love, of course, is scarcely in society,
Unless in fancy dress, and masked like one of us--'"

still I really am very proud of my six feet two inches prospective
conjugal yoke-fellow; proud of his martial bearing, his brilliant
reputation, 'proud of his pride'; and I think I shall grow very fond of
him, because in a mild way I think he cares for me'; and we can make a
little Indian Summer for each other before the frosts of Winter fall
upon us. What else can I do with my life? Think of it. Papa will be
married soon, and while I don't propose to tear my hair and insult his
bride, nobody can be expected to reach such altitudes of
self-abnegation as to want a step-mother. Poor papa, I am sure I hope
he may be very happy, but it is superhuman to elect to live under the
same roof, and smile benignantly on his bliss. Rivers, too, has slipped
under the matrimonial noose, and I am absolutely thrown on my own
resources for companionship. What does society offer me? Haggard,
weazen old witch, bedizened in a painted mask; don't I know the yellow
teeth and bleared eyes behind the paste-board, and the sharp nails in
the claws hidden under undressed kid? Have not I gone around for years
on her gaudy wheel, like that patient, uncomplaining goat we saw
stepping on the broad spokes of the great wheel that churned the
butter, and pressed the cheese in that dairy, near Udine? The dizzying
circle, where one must step, step--keep time or be lost! In Winter,
balls, receptions, luncheons, teas, Germans, theatre parties, opera
suppers; a rush