* * * * *

"We hear men speak so frequently of womanly women, ending their praises
with, 'she is essentially womanly.' I knew one of these womanly women,
whose voice was like liquid music, whose ways were gentle, whose eyes
filled with tears at the recital of some tale of woe, and always about
her was an air of gentle, womanly sweetness and dainty femininity. She
had a friend who loved her, one whose voice was not so soft, whose
manner was brusque, who was considered, "not quite good form, you know."
My womanly woman allowed this friend to take upon herself the burden of
a sin which she herself had committed, allowed her to bear the brunt of
scorn and contumely of her world, allowed her to die without righting
the great wrong. A lonely grave and a plain marble slab mark the spot
where she who was "not quite good form," lies: while she, to whom she
had given more than life, gathers the rose leaves with dainty grace, for
she is so essentially 'womanly.'"

Life: a little joy, great sorrow, some tragedy, and the curtain falls.

* * * * *

Nothing can hurt so cruelly as the hand of love. The hand of hate is
velvet in comparison.

* * * * *

There are women who consider the world well lost for the man whom they
love and idealize; while upon close acquaintance they would discover
that he was not worth even the loss of a dinner.