She looks beautiful in her furs; you love their darkness against her cheek; but you comprehend that they conceal the loveliness of her throat and the fine line of her chin, and that she also has comprehended this, and, wishing to look still more bewitching, discards her furs at the risk of taking cold.

So you hold your peace, and try to look as if you had not thought it out.
This theory is satisfactory except that it does not account for the absence of the muff.

Ah, well, there must always be a mystery somewhere! Mystery is a part of enchantment.
Manual labor is best.

Your heart can sing and your mind can dream while your hands are working.

You could not have a singing heart and a dreaming mind all day if you had to scheme out dollars, or if you had to add columns of figures.