“Just the box only. 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. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness, and nearly as wide as the passage. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. I was his wife.
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