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 girl—even on week days—and that is why you were not ashamed.'

Of which the sad moral is that to be safe, virtue should go hunch-backed.

OTHING in Marie was ugly, and everything she did fulfilled the law of beauty. She was a great comfort to irritated nerves. After all, how little real attention women pay to beauty. One woman has no control over her voice, but lets it out like a trumpet. Another neglects her walk and wears boots with crooked heels. One bites her nails, another scratches her head with her crochet-needle.

I could not live a month with such a woman without hurting her. A lady, of whom I was very fond, once killed an insect with her coffee-spoon. By Heaven! I needed all my self-control not to slap her in the face.

With Marie I am safe. She is like a quiet summer evening, soothing and exciting at the same time. Sweet harmonies of peace fill one's soul, everything seems bright and lightsome, worries vanish from the brains like clearing mists, courage and hope expand the heart. When Marie laid her hand on my brow she swept away all my troubles, and life lay before me as on some quiet summer evening, rich in beauty and peace. Never has she set a nerve shrieking with pain or anger or disgust. Like heavenly manna did she refresh me. Like God's own blessing did she come to me.