In the beginning it was a dictionary. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor.
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