I looked at her; there was not even a fleeting shadow on her face.

Then she lingered for half a minute by my side.
As she drew near to me, I felt again that it was utterly impossible that my suspicions could be correct, and that I must be mistaken.
"I hope," she said, "you will not think what I am going to say strange.
I know that it is the custom for some wives to be jealous of their husband's friends--some might be jealous of you.

I want to tell you that I am not one of that kind.

I love my husband so utterly, so entirely, that all whom he loves are dear to me.

You are a brother, friend, everything to him--will you be the same to me ?" A beautiful woman asking, with those sweet, sensitive lips, for my friendship, looking at me with those calm, tender eyes, asking me to like her for her husband's sake--the sweetest, the most gracious, the most graceful picture I had ever seen.