So she lived in her child world--a world quite different from the real world--a world gilded by the sunrise of consciousness; and because the angels loved her and kept her heart clean, the gilding never quite wore off her heroes.

And nothing that Heaven gives us in this world is so blessed as to have the gilding stick to the images of our youth.

In Jeanette's case even Lige Bemis--Judge Bemis, she had been taught to call him--never showed the tar under the gilding to her eyes.

Her first memory of him was in her father's office in the big City.

He was a tall man, with gray hair that became him well, with sharp black eyes, and enough flesh on his bones to carry the frock-coats he always wore and give him a corporosity just escaping the portly.