Then Brigham arose from a sofa, where he had been sitting with his first wife and his last.

He came gallantly toward her; Brigham, whom she knew to be the most favoured of God on earth and the absolute ruler of all the realm about her--an affable, unpretentious yet dignified gentleman of seventy, who took her hand warmly in both his own, looked her over with his kindly blue eyes, and welcomed her to Zion in words of a fatherly gentleness.

Later, when he had danced with some of his wives, Brigham came to dance with her, light of foot and full of zest for the measure as any youth.
Others danced with her, but during it all she kept finding herself back before the magic square that framed the land where a man loved but one woman.

She remembered that Brigham sat with four of his wives in one of the boxes, enthusiastically applauding that portrayal of a single love.
As the picture came back to her now, there seemed to have been something incongruous in this spectacle.

She observed the seamed and hardened features of his earliest wife, who kept to the sofa during the evening, beside the better favoured Amelia, whom the good man had last married, and she thought of his score or so of wives between them.
Then she knew that what she had seen the night before had been the truth; that she could love no man who did not love her alone.