"I love him," she said simply.
"Foolish child! foolish child!" was the parrot-phrase flung in answer.
The waving of crooked, false-jewelled fingers gave grotesqueness to the words.
The girl laughed again.

The joy of a caged bird was in her voice.

Her eyes caught the melody and echoed it in radiance, then closed for a moment, as though to hide their secret.

When they opened, the mist of a dream had passed across them.
Thin-lipped wisdom spoke at her from the worn chair, hinted at prudence, quoted from that book of cowardice whose author apes the name of common sense.

She did not listen.