ery feminine quality calculated to
inspire liking, she had, on the other hand, been disinherited of every
attribute calculated to excite passion. An ugly woman has for some men
an attraction; the proof is ever present to our eyes. Miss Ramsbotham
was plain but pleasant looking. Large, healthy in mind and body,
capable, self-reliant, and cheerful, blessed with a happy disposition
together with a keen sense of humour, there was about her absolutely
nothing for tenderness to lay hold of. An ideal wife, she was an
impossible sweetheart. Every man was her friend. The suggestion that
any man could be her lover she herself would have greeted with a clear,
ringing laugh.

Not that she held love in despite; for such folly she was possessed of
far too much sound sense. "To have somebody in love with you--somebody
strong and good," so she would confess to her few close intimates, a
dreamy expression clouding for an instant her broad, sunny face, "why, it
must be just lovely!" For Miss Ramsbotham was prone to American
phraseology, and had even been at some pains, during a six months'
journey through the States (whither she had been commissioned by a
conscientious trade journal seeking reliable information concerning the
condition of female textile workers) to acquire a slight but decided
American accent. It was her one affectation, but assumed, as one might
feel certain, for a practical and legitimate object.

"You can have no conception," she would explain, laughing, "what a help I
find it. 'I'm 'Muriken' is the 'Civis Romanus sum' of the modern woman's
world. It opens every door to us. If I ring the bell and say, 'Oh, if
you please, I have come to interview Mr. So-and-So for such-and-such a
paper,' the footman looks through me at the opposite side of the street,
and tells me to wait in the hall while he inquires if Mr. So-and-So will
see me or not. But if I say, 'That's my keerd, young man. You tell your
master Miss Ramsbotham is waiting for him in the showroom, and will take
it real kind if he'll just bustle himself,' the poor fellow walks
backwards till he stumbles against the bottom stair, and my gentleman
comes down with profuse apologies for having kept me waiting three
minutes and a half.

"'And to be in love with someone," she would continue, "someone great
that one could look up to and honour and worship--someone that would fill
one's whole life, make it beautiful, make every day worth living, I think
tha