It was the great bundle of Prosper's mail that first brought home to

Joan the awareness of an outside world. She knew that Prosper was a

traveled and widely experienced man, but she had not fancied him held

to this world by human attachments. Concerning the "tall child" she

had not put a question and she still believed her to have been

Prosper's wife. But when, leaving her place under the tree, she came

into the house and found Prosper feverishly slitting open envelope

after envelope, with a pile of papers and magazines, ankle-high,

beside him on the floor, she stood aghast.

"What a lot of people must have been writing to you, Prosper!"

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He did not hear her. He was greedy of eye and fingertips, searching

written sheet after sheet. He was flushed along the cheek-bones and a

little pale about the lips. Joan stood there, her hands hanging, her

head bent, staring up and out at him from under her brows. She looked,

in this attitude, rather dangerous.

Prosper sped through his mail, made an odd gesture of desperation, sat

still a moment staring, his brilliant, green-gray eyes gone dull and

blank, then he gave himself a shuddery shake, pulled a small parcel

from under the papers, and held it out to Joan. He smiled.

"Something for you, leopardess," he said--he had told her his first

impression of her.

She took the box haughtily and walked with it over to her chair. But

he came and kissed her.

"Jealous of my mail? You foolish child. What a girl-thing you are! It

doesn't matter, does it, how we train you or leave you untrained,

you're all alike, you women, under your skins. Open your box and thank

me prettily, and leave matters you don't understand alone. That's the

way to talk, isn't it?"

She flushed and smiled rather doubtfully, but, at sight of his gift,

she forgot everything else for a moment. It was a collar of topaz and

emerald set in heavy silver. She was awe-struck by its beauty, and

went, after he had fastened it for her, to stand a long while before

the glass looking at it. She wore her yellow dress cut into a V at the

neck and the jewels rested beautifully at the base of her long, round

throat, faintly brown like her face up to the brow. The yellow and the

green brought out all the value of her grave, scarlet lips, the soft,

even tints of her skin, the dark lights and shadows of her hair and

eyes.

"It's beautiful," she said. "It's wonderful. I love it."




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