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Thin-lipped wisdom spoke at her from the worn chair, hinted at

prudence, quoted from that book of cowardice whose author apes

the name of common sense. She did not listen. She was free in her

prison of passion. Her prince, Prince Charming, was with her. She

had called on memory to remake him. She had sent her soul to

search for him, and it had brought him back. His kiss burned

again upon her mouth. Her eyelids were warm with his breath.

Then wisdom altered its method and spoke of espial and discovery.

This young man might be rich. If so, marriage should be thought

of. Against the shell of her ear broke the waves of worldly

cunning. The arrows of craft shot by her. She saw the thin lips

moving, and smiled.