She looked at herself in the glass long and fixedly.

Yes, she was beautiful.

How dreadful it must be for plain women when they loved! They must know that men could not really care for them.

They might, of course, respect and esteem them, and wish in a lukewarm way to marry them, but they could never really love them.
She, Fay, carried with her the talisman.
A horrible doubt seized her, just when she was becoming calm.

Supposing Michael would not! Oh! but he _would_ if he cared as she did.