'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. She always dawdled, so it was easy. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should.
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