``I may say I was daft about pretty women,''
continued Baird. ``I never read an item about a pretty
woman in the papers, or saw a picture of a pretty woman
that I didn't wish I knew her--well. Can you imagine
that?'' laughed he.
``Commonplace,'' said Cyrilla. ``All men are so.
That's why the papers always describe the woman as
pretty and why the pictures are published.''
``Really? Yes, I suppose so.'' Baird looked
chagrined. ``Anyhow, here I am, all for one woman.
And why? I can't explain it to myself. She's pretty,
lovely, entrancing sometimes. She has charm, grace,
sweetness. She dresses well and carries herself with a
kind of sweet haughtiness. She looks as if she knew a
lot--and nothing bad. Do you know, I can't imagine
her having been married to that beast! I've tried to
imagine it. I simply can't.''
``I shouldn't try if I were you,'' said Mrs. Brindley.
``But I was talking about why I love her. Does this
bore you?''
``A little,'' laughed Cyrilla. ``I'd rather hear some
man talking about MY charms.
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