"I've been trying to please other people all my life and failed," she said. "After this I shall please myself.
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Won't you try to remember you're a lady?" she pleaded.
"Oh, if there were only any hope of being able to forget it!" said Valancy wearily.
The shackles had been stricken off her soul.
"What herb is most injurious to a young lady's beauty?" propounded Uncle Benjamin by way of starting conversation--"loosening things up a bit," as he would have said.
Valancy, whose duty it was to say, "What?" did not say it. Nobody else said it, so Uncle Benjamin, after an expectant pause, had to answer, "Thyme,"
Valancy was in the midst of realities after a lifetime of unrealities.
"But in your subconscious mind you have a conviction that nobody can be beautiful who doesn't look like Olive. Also, you remember your face as it was in the days when your soul was not allowed to shine through it."
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