Page:I, Mary MacLane (1917).pdf/148

 link bracelet, a gift but that afternoon from the lover. Suddenly she stopped and cried to herself, 'I'm too lovely for this fate—I'm too lovely and beloved—the cruelty of God—: I'll not go on!' She thought of the gleams and colorings of Sodom. She quickly reckoned the cost and decided to pay it. She was a rare good sport, and a quaint. She looked back at the doomed city blazing in brimstone—'But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.'—

As I put away my chamois-skin buffer and glass paste-jar through my mind floated the pensive burden of a French song—

She must have made a beautiful statue, all in glistening salt.

I wish I had a glistening little salty replica of it to set on my desk: a so unusual, a so dainty conceit, Lot's Wife!