Miss Wilcox's
hands, meant a series of pert tu quoques of the "you're another"
variety. Her two other axioms, "Don't let them see that you care for
them" and "feed the beasts," were alas! never put to the test as no man
had ever considered the possibility of being loved by Miss Wilcox and
the feeding stage had, in consequence, never been reached.

Nevertheless, in defence of her theses, Miss Wilcox was rough-toughed in
public, while in private, she studied recipes and articles on cooking.
As hope gradually began to give way to experience, Miss Wilcox came to
the conclusion that she frightened men off. They regarded her, she
imagined, as cold and indifferent and unapproachable. "I don't cheapen
myself," she would say, forgetting her conservatory days. In her heart
of hearts, she imagined herself in humble surrender, laying her strong
personality at the feet of a still stronger one and being gently lifted
up on to a pedestal. It was curious, she thought, that her wonderful,
unique gift of tenderness should go unperceived. But how is one to show
that one is tender? It is so difficult for a maiden lady, living alone.
She saw visions of a huge man with whimsical, smiling eyes, who after
seeing her two or three times would call at her cottage. He would stand
in the door and simply say, "Ellen," and she would put her head on his
shoulder and cry gently while he stroked her hair. "Does my loving you
make you sad, little one?" he would say, and she would answer, "No, no,
they are tears of happiness."

Miss Wilcox thought it would be delightful to be called "little one."
And then, rather nervously and tremulously, she would murmur, "I am
afraid I am not very beautiful," and he would laugh a deep, joyous laugh
and say, "To me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

But it never happened. Even the chinless curate, whose voice without
consonants gave the effect of an intoning bumble-bee, never took
advantage of her suggestions (frequently repeated) that he should drop
in to tea.

She tried to learn lawn-tennis and chess, but driving a ball into a net
and studying problems in the Sunday papers becomes very monotonous. It
was extraordinary how little provision life seemed to have made for
superior people with fastidious tastes, whereas an empty head and a
pretty face conquers the world! Miss Wilcox was very proud of the
epigram, "empty heads and pretty faces." She used it frequently, more
in sorrow than in anger. Vera w