THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
bellhops could see through the disguise; the dress-suit didn't hide anything.
So here we arrive at last, without further dilly-dallying. William was in love. The fact that until now his looks had never worried him deeply was sufficient proof of the state of his mind. The moment a man wants to be handsome he is riding for his fall. No man cares a rap for mere beauty among his kind; he wants nothing more than strength or cleverness. But let him think woman, and at once he desires the beauty of Antinous, the strength of Hercules, and the wisdom of Nestor. You will no doubt carefully note that Antinous is given the precedence. It is not that man wishes to shed these illustrious qualities upon woman; it is wholly selfish; he merely wants to be well supplied with bait.
I often wonder what Nature was about when she gave all the gorgeous feathers to the male birds and so few to the female. Certainly she did not follow out this idea when she modeled the human race.
William's school-teacher, however, did not think him ugly. To her he was only rugged and clean and kindly and amusing. She thought his eyes beautiful. His pug-nose, his generous mouth, even his freckles, all seemed to move with but one object, with but one purpose, to accentuate the beauty and expression of his eyes. I might go on and say that she was falling in love with him, but I should have to deny it later. She had her dreams even as he had his, but William Grogan had no place in them.
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