What might a man see amid the socialites of Manhattan, bearing such a hue as that. A bodice, with a pale hand pressed to the stomacher? A man's frock-coat, or the embroidery thereupon? The flash of a jeweled choker, a bracelet, a ring? Feathers in finely-coiffed hair?
Oh, but you. You have eyes for no other living form, isn't that so? You have spent your waking moments with your attentions wholly on your languishing wife. No cloth or adornment, no matter how richly purple, could attract your eye, because you have no care for the wearer.
I shall close my eyes and pretend I see through yours. (And I shall not pretend any further than that, for I would never wish to grasp your fortune at such an inopportune time!)
Hm. I see. Your eye is terribly clouded with the ghostly image of your darling, your enchantress, and even across all these miles, you see the flowers I picked as I strolled home-ward!
(An audacious guess, no doubt, because you will be inclined to say I have guessed correctly, because my answer is so very charming. My dour husband with his dour pursuits, who is so lovely when awakened. Who indulges his liefste in her every whim. Ah, I am fortunate. Truly, truly.)
An honest guess, then: is it a painting you've seen?
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What might a man see amid the socialites of Manhattan, bearing such a hue as that. A bodice, with a pale hand pressed to the stomacher? A man's frock-coat, or the embroidery thereupon? The flash of a jeweled choker, a bracelet, a ring? Feathers in finely-coiffed hair?
Oh, but you. You have eyes for no other living form, isn't that so? You have spent your waking moments with your attentions wholly on your languishing wife. No cloth or adornment, no matter how richly purple, could attract your eye, because you have no care for the wearer.
I shall close my eyes and pretend I see through yours. (And I shall not pretend any further than that, for I would never wish to grasp your fortune at such an inopportune time!)
Hm. I see. Your eye is terribly clouded with the ghostly image of your darling, your enchantress, and even across all these miles, you see the flowers I picked as I strolled home-ward!
(An audacious guess, no doubt, because you will be inclined to say I have guessed correctly, because my answer is so very charming. My dour husband with his dour pursuits, who is so lovely when awakened. Who indulges his liefste in her every whim. Ah, I am fortunate. Truly, truly.)
An honest guess, then: is it a painting you've seen?