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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"A Woman-Hater"

Beauty so positive as hers
is indomitable. The petty accidents that are the terrors of homely charms
seem to enhance Queen Beauty. Disheveled hair adorns it: close bound hair
adorns it. Simplicity adorns it. Diamonds adorn it. Everything seems to
adorn it, because, the truth is, it adorns everything. And so Zoe,
drenched with rain, and her dress a bathing-gown, was only a Greek
goddess tinted blue, her bust and shoulders and her molded figure
covered, yet revealed. What was she to an artist's eye? Just the Townly
Venus with her sculptor's cunning draperies, and Juno's gait.
"Et vera incessa patuit Dea."
When she got to the hotel she held up her finger to Severne with a pretty
peremptoriness. She had shown him so much tenderness, she felt she had a
right to order him now: "I must beg of you," said she, "to go straight to
your rooms and dress very quickly, and present yourself to Harrington
five minutes before dinner at least."
"I will obey," said he, obsequiously.
That pleased her, and she kissed her hand to him and scudded to her own
room.
At sight of the blazing fire and provident preparations, she started, and
said, aloud, "Oh, how nice of them!" and, all dripping as she was, she
stood there with her young heart in a double glow.


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