And she had done it by her thoughtless selfishness and lack of self-discipline.
And when I tried and tried to tell her no, it wasn't, and that I didn't feel tarnished a bit, and that she wasn't, nor Father either, she only cried all the more, and shook her head and began again, all choked up.
She said this little dress was the one she wore at the big reception where she first met Father.

It was a beautiful blue then, all shining and spotless, and the silver lace glistened like frost in the sunlight.

And she was so proud and happy when Father--and he was fine and splendid and handsome then, too, she said--singled her out, and just couldn't seem to stay away from her a minute all the evening.

And then four days later he asked her to marry him; and she was still more proud and happy.
And she said their married life, when they started out, was just like that beautiful dress, all shining and spotless and perfect; but that it wasn't two months before a little bit of tarnish appeared, and then another and another.
She said she was selfish and willful and exacting, and wanted Father all to herself; and she didn't stop to think that he had his work to do, and his place to make in the world; and that all of living, to him, wasn't just in being married to her, and attending to her every whim.

She said she could see it all now, but that she couldn't then, she was too young, and undisciplined, and she'd never been denied a thing in the world she wanted.