Marriage had only accentuated the beautiful maturity of Hilma's figure--now no longer precocious--defining the single, deep swell from her throat to her waist, the strong, fine amplitude of her hips, the sweet feminine undulation of her neck and shoulders.

Her cheeks were pink with health, and her large round arms carried the piled-up dishes with never a tremour.

Annixter, observant enough where his wife was concerned noted how the reflection of the white china set a glow of pale light underneath her chin.
"Hilma," he said, "I've been wondering lately about things.

We're so blamed happy ourselves it won't do for us to forget about other people who are down, will it?
Might change our luck.

And I'm just likely to forget that way, too.