d done
it by her thoughtless selfishness and lack of self-discipline.

And when I tried and tried to tell her no, it wasn't, and that I
didn't feel tarnished a bit, and that she wasn't, nor Father either,
she only cried all the more, and shook her head and began again, all
choked up.

She said this little dress was the one she wore at the big reception
where she first met Father. It was a beautiful blue then, all shining
and spotless, and the silver lace glistened like frost in the
sunlight. And she was so proud and happy when Father--and he was fine
and splendid and handsome then, too, she said--singled her out, and
just couldn't seem to stay away from her a minute all the evening. And
then four days later he asked her to marry him; and she was still more
proud and happy.

And she said their married life, when they started out, was just like
that beautiful dress, all shining and spotless and perfect; but that
it wasn't two months before a little bit of tarnish appeared, and then
another and another.

She said she was selfish and willful and exacting, and wanted Father
all to herself; and she didn't stop to think that he had his work to
do, and his place to make in the world; and that all of living, to
him, wasn't just in being married to her, and attending to her every
whim. She said she could see it all now, but that she couldn't then,
she was too young, and undisciplined, and she'd never been denied a
thing in the world she wanted. As she said that, right before my eyes
rose that box of chocolates she made me eat one at a time; but, of
course, I didn't say anything! Besides, Mother hurried right on
talking.

She said things went on worse and worse--and it was all her fault. She
grew sour and cross and disagreeable. She could see now that she did.
But she did not realize at all then what she was doing. She was just
thinking of herself--always herself; her rights, her wrongs, her hurt
feelings, her wants and wishes. She never once thought that _he_ had
rights and wrongs and hurt feelings, maybe.

And so the tarnish kept growing more and more. She said there was
nothing like selfishness to tarnish the beautiful fabric of married
life. (Isn't that a lovely sentence? I said that over and over to
myself so as to be sure and remember it, so I could get it into this
story. I thought it was beautiful.)

She said a lot more--oh, ever so much more; but I can't remember it
all. (I lost some while I was saying that sent