But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. I wanted the magic of love. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. "Read that," rejoined Austin, pointing to the placard. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. Now I’d like the rest of your story.
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