He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. " "Yes. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. Her father was an astute businessman and a hard worker, but also handsome in the face which had aided partly his ascension to the Guild. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him.
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