Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. ” Her hands fell to her side. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. She felt herself getting into a corner. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave.
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