A woman swears to you, Janey, by all she holds holy on earth, it is not the loss of her beauty--there will be a wrinkled patch on the cheek for life, the surgeon says; I am to bear a brown spot, like a bruised peach they sell at the fruit-shops cheap.

Chillon's Riette! I think of that, the miserable wife I am for him without the beauty he loved so! I think of myself as guilty, a really guilty woman, when I compare my loss with my husband's.' 'Your accident, dearest Riette--how it happened ?' Carinthia said, enfolding her.
'Because, Janey, what have I ever been to Chillon but the good-looking thing he was proud of?
It's gone.

Oh, the accident.

Brailstone had pushed little Corby away; he held my hand, kept imploring, he wanted the usual two minutes, and all to warn me against--I've told you; and he saw Lord Fleetwood coming.

I got my hand free, and stepped back, my head spinning; and I fell.