"corsage," "lingerie,"
"full ritual," and similar expressions occur with some frequency, but
the contents of which are quite obscure in their bearing on the course
of this history--"and was ever finding happiness where others saw
misery, and _vice versa_. Well, I am doing something of the same sort
now in turning over and over in my mind the question as to whether I
should ever marry any one or not. I know perfectly well that no one
can ever be the One for me if Eugene is not--but is there a One? Don't
say that I am a little--goose, but listen and ponder.

"You remember the sort of literary friendship I had with George L----?
Well, of course George was a veritable Miss Nancy, and perfectly
absurd, but there was something basically likeable about him. Now, I
always have thought that if one could grind George and Eugene to a pulp
and mix them, the compromise would be my ideal. I like men who do
things, and Eugene is the most forceful man I ever knew. Owing to your
absence when he was in New York you missed seeing him, but his pictures
must have shown you how handsome and strong and masterly he is. Well,
this phase of a man must please any girl.

"Is it possible for such qualities to subsist in the same personality
with those I loved (there's no use denying it--in a platonic sense) in
George? In other words, can one reasonably expect to find a man who
can win battles in the world's life of this twentieth century, who will
not stare at one in utter lack of comprehension when he finds one
dropping tears on the pages of _Charmides_, or _McAndrew's Prayer_, or
Omar, and perhaps try to comfort one--at the moment when the divine
despair wrought by poignant beauty fills one with divine happiness?
It's horribly clumsy as I put it; but you'll know.

"He's just as good and kind and considerate as a man can be, and as
little spoiled by the fierce battles which he has fought--_and
won!_--as could possibly be expected--in fact, not at all spoiled.
Even this suspicion of a lack of the gift of seeing that the violet
'neath a mossy stone is a good deal more than that--the chief good
quality George had--around which I have been writing in these pages,
seems to be more a suspicion than a reality; for recently he has once
or twice ventured on discussions of such matters with a confidence and
an insight which put me--me, who have plumed myself on my mental St.
Simeon's tower, like a detestable intellectual cockatoo (you must
untwis