first of our perfections.

We have more now. I knew as I entered the house that night that
something had happened; that the hope of the early dawn had died, for
some cause, with the dusk. The trouble showed in her eyes: mingled
doubt, chagrin, self-accusation, self-defense, defeat--familiar
symptoms. She had seen something, something perfect, and had bought it.

I knew the look well, and the feelings all too well, and said nothing.
For suppose I had been at home that day and she had been in town?
Still, on my trip into town that morning I ran the risk of meeting the
man who sold me "The Magic Stropless Razor Salve." No, not that man!
I shall never meet him again, for vengeance is mine, saith the _Lord_.
But suppose I had met him? And suppose he had had some other salve,
_Safety_ Razor Salve this time to sell?

It is for young men to see visions and for old men to dream dreams; but
it is for no man or woman to buy one.

She had seen a vision, and had bought it--"The Perfect Automatic
Carpet-Layer."

I kept silence, as I say, which is often a thoughtful thing to do.

"Are you ill?" she ventured, handing me my tea.

"No."

"Tired?"