“You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. You shall have room to develop, you shall live as you will, where you will, only give me the right to protect you, to free you from all these petty material cares.
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