He noted the perfect poise of her figure, clad as it was in a cheap print gown,--the slimness of her waist, the fulness of her bosom, the white roundness of her throat.

Then he smiled.
"So you are an old maid!" he said--"That's very strange!" "Oh, I don't think so!" and she shook her head deprecatingly--"Many women are old maids by choice as well as by necessity.

Marriage isn't always bliss, you know! And unless a woman loves a man very very much--so much that she can't possibly live her life without him, she'd better keep single.

At least that's _my_ opinion.

Now Mr.David, you must go to bed!" He rose obediently--but trembled as he rose, and could scarcely stand from sheer weakness.