Perhaps when I was nineteen it mattered little to me.

And to-night, also, it mattered little, for my mind was preoccupied and a dinner with Lucullus would have been savourless.
If the Psalmist cried, "What is man that Thou art mindful of him ?" what cry had he at the back of his head to utter concerning woman?
Did he leave her to be implicitly dealt with by Charles Darwin in his "Theory of Sexual Selection"?
Or did he in the good old oriental way regard her as unimportant in the eyes of the Deity?
If the latter, he was a purblind prophet and missed the very fount of human tears.
When I looked at Judith, I was smitten with a great pain.

She had not looked so young, so fresh, so fragilely fair for many months.

She wore a dress of corn-flower blue that deepened the violet of her eyes.

In the mass of flax hued thistle-down that is her hair a blue argus butterfly completed the chord of colour.