Louisa May Alcott,
On Picket Duty, and Other Tales…
(1864)
“ Once he asked me to write a letter, and, as I settled pen and paper, I said, with an irrepressible glimmer of feminine curiosity, "Shall it be addressed to wife, or mother, John?""Neither, ma'am; I've got no wife, and will write to mother myself when I get better. Did you think I was married because of this?" he asked, touching a plain ring he wore, and often turned thoughtfully on his finger when he lay alone."Partly that, but more from a settled sort of look you have,—a look which young men seldom get until they marry." ”
