Dorothea Deakin

“ She looked at me steadily for a minute or two.
"Beauty in some ways is a handicap," she said slowly. "Do you know, Jerry, that it seems to me almost as humiliating to be loved for one's beauty as for one's money. And it gives false values for a short time. Money, after all, doesn't vanish like one's good looks, with years. How is one to know what one will have left when one's beauty goes? Oh, Jerry,"—her voice almost broke,—"shall I, do you think—shall I have anything at all when—when—"
"Rosette!" I caught her hand, but she took it gently away. She always does. ”

“ I half rose from my seat.
"Poor Penelope!" said Rosette, wistfully. "She did have a wretched time trying to decide. She used to talk to me about it, because she said I was so wise for my age. I've always been considered wise, Jerry."
"Go on," said I.
"I advised her strongly to marry Sir John. 'He has all the strength of character,' said I, 'and all the brains.' 'But Dick is such a dear,' said she, 'and so handsome.' Penelope had no balance, you see. 'If you intend to go by mere beauty,' said I to her, 'take your precious Dick then, and starve with him.' 'I don't want to starve,' she said. ”

“ There was a pink hollyhock bloom in her black hair, and her eyes were maddening; her cheeks were most exquisitely flushed.
"Oh, Rosette, why are you so very, very beautiful?" said I, sorrowfully. She smiled divinely.
"Am I? More than usual, Jerry? Is it my new gown, do you suppose?"
"It's everything," said I, hopelessly; for, indeed, it was not fair. "And it's cruel, wicked, unsportsmanlike of you. Rosette."
"It's a woman's sacred duty to make the most of the looks God gave her," said she, softly. ”