nd the
thick ankles which she considered "common," she was rather anemic. Her
cheeks were round, not rosy, but clear and soft; her lips a pale pink.
Her chin was plucky and undimpled; it was usually spotted with one or
two unimportant eruptions, which she kept so well covered with powder
that they were never noticeable. No one ever thought of them except Una
herself, to whom they were tragic blemishes which she timorously
examined in the mirror every time she went to wash her hands. She knew
that they were the result of the indigestible Golden family meals; she
tried to take comfort by noticing their prevalence among other girls;
but they kept startling her anew; she would secretly touch them with a
worried forefinger, and wonder whether men were able to see anything
else in her face.

You remembered her best as she hurried through the street in her tan
mackintosh with its yellow velveteen collar turned high up, and one of
those modest round hats to which she was addicted. For then you were
aware only of the pale-gold hair fluffing round her school-mistress
eye-glasses, her gentle air of respectability, and her undistinguished
littleness.

She trusted in the village ideal of virginal vacuousness as the type of
beauty which most captivated men, though every year she was more
shrewdly doubtful of the divine superiority of these men. That a woman's
business in life was to remain respectable and to secure a man, and
consequent security, was her unmeditated faith--till, in 1905, when Una
was twenty-four years old, her father died.

Sec. 2

Captain Golden left to wife and daughter a good name, a number of debts,
and eleven hundred dollars in lodge insurance. The funeral was scarcely
over before neighbors--the furniture man, the grocer, the polite old
homeopathic doctor--began to come in with bland sympathy and large
bills. When the debts were all cleared away the Goldens had only six
hundred dollars and no income beyond the good name. All right-minded
persons agree that a good name is precious beyond rubies, but Una would
have preferred less honor and more rubies.

She was so engaged in comforting her mother that she scarcely grieved
for her father. She took charge of everything--money, house, bills.

Mrs. Golden had been overwhelmed by a realization that, however slack
and shallow Captain Golden had been, he had adored her and encouraged
her in her gentility, her pawing at culture. With an emerging sincerity,
Mrs.