She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. . ” He turned to the waiter, who held a wine-card. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. If only for the sake of her argument with her home, she wanted success. A paralyzing horror was upon her. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. “My wife.
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