Summary

Portrait of Mary Heaton Vorse Mary Heaton Vorse McClure's Magazine, Volume 31, Number 4… (1908)

It can't be Felicia, you think. But it is Felicia, who comes into the room, beautifully dressed. Why, she must have got up and dressed, tears and all, the instant you left the room! She comes in gallantly, carrying the powder on her nose with effrontery, denying her eyes, which still show the ravages of tears, by the gay smile on her lips; and as dinner progresses, excellent, and with Felicia all as natural and gay as possible, you wonder more than ever what the devil it was all about anyway.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Heaton Vorse Mary Heaton Vorse McClure's Magazine, Volume 31, Number 4… (1908)

You are like a landsman who has pulled an innocent-looking plug out of the bottom of a boat and sees it fill and founder before his eyes; you feel like a man who lights a match and lo! his house is in flames; with such horror and bewilderment does the sight of a weeping Felicia fill you. Guilt and bewilderment struggle with one another, as her mouth quivers pitifully and her eyes fill with slow tears.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Heaton Vorse Mary Heaton Vorse McClure's Magazine, Volume 31, Number 4… (1908)

Felicia raises her head.
"You're not!" says she spitefully. They're the first words she has spoken since she pleaded with you in agonized tones to "let her be."
Then, as you sit down to the mockery of oysters and soup, anger rises in you. What creatures women are! Hasn't a man a right to ask why dinner isn't ready in his own house without the sky falling? You look at your watch; more than half an hour late. Well, why wasn't it ready? Why? When a man comes home tired from the office, he has a right to expect his dinner to be ready.
Source: Wikisource

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