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She is a young person of sense, education, and character.
She also adores musical comedy and a band at dinner: an excellent thing
in woman--when she is very young.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"Because, my dear Maisie," said I, "you are good to look upon. You are
also dropping a hairpin."
She hastily secured the dangling thing. "I did my hair anyhow to-day,"
she explained.
Again I thought of Dale's tie and socks. The signs of a lover's
"careless desolation," described by Rosalind so minutely, can still be
detected in modern youth of both sexes. I did not pursue the question,
but alluded to autumn gaieties. She spoke of them without enthusiasm.
Miss Somebody's wedding was very dull, and Mrs. Somebody Else's dance
manned with vile and vacuous dancers. At the Opera the greatest of
German sopranos sang false. All human institutions had taken a crooked
turn, and her cat could not be persuaded to pay the commonest attention
to its kittens. Then she asked me nonchalantly:
"Have you seen anything of Dale lately?"
"He was working with me this morning.


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