art are always the forgotten.

Likewise beautiful women have always been a law unto themselves.
Who could have prophesied in what way any of these inspired
law-breakers would break the law, what new type of perfect
imperfection they would create?

So we return to the Perfect Woman, having gained this much
knowledge of her,--that her perfection is nothing more or less
than her unique, individual, charming imperfection, and that she
is simply the woman we love and who is fool enough to love us.



CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR ANTICIPATES DISCONTENT ON THE PART OF HIS
READER

"But come," I imagine some reader complaining, "isn't it high
time for something to happen?" No doubt it is, but what am I to
do? I am no less discontented. Is it not even more to my
interest than to the reader's for something to happen? Here have
I been tramping along since breakfast-time, and now it is late in
the afternoon, but never a feather of her dove's wings, never a
flutter of her angel's robes have I seen. It is disheartening,
for one naturally expects to find anything we seek a few minutes
after starting out to seek it, and I confess that I expected to
find my golden mistress within a very few hours of leaving home.
However, had that been the case, there would have been no story,