Desire has trimmed the sails, and Circumstance Brings but the breeze to fill them.
While Grandcourt on his beautiful black Yarico, the groom behind him on Criterion, was taking the pleasant ride from Diplow to Offendene, Gwendolen was seated before the mirror while her mother gathered up the lengthy mass of light-brown hair which she had been carefully brushing.
"Only gather it up easily and make a coil, mamma," said Gwendolen.
"Let me bring you some ear-rings, Gwen," said Mrs. Davilow, when the hair was adjusted, and they were both looking at the reflection in the glass. It was impossible for them not to notice that the eyes looked brighter than they had done of late, that there seemed to be a shadow lifted from the face, leaving all the lines once more in their placid youthfulness. The mother drew some inference that made her voice rather cheerful. "You do want your earrings?"
"No, mamma; I shall not wear any ornaments, and I shall put on my black silk. Black is the only wear when one is going to refuse an offer," said Gwendolen, with one of her old smiles at her mother, while she rose to throw off her dressing-gown.
"Suppose the offer is not made after all," said Mrs. Davilow, not without a sly intention.

While Grandcourt was riding to Offendene on his beautiful black Yarico, with the groom behind him on Criterion, Gwendolen was seated before the mirror while her mother carefully brushed her light-brown hair.
"Just gather it up easily and make a coil, mamma," said Gwendolen.
"Let me bring you some ear-rings, Gwen," said Mrs. Davilow, when the hair was adjusted, and they were both looking at the reflection in the glass. The eyes looked brighter than they had done of late; there seemed to be a shadow lifted from the face.
"No, mamma; no ornaments, and I shall put on my black silk. Black is the only colour to wear when one is going to refuse an offer," said Gwendolen, with one of her old smiles.
"Suppose the offer is not made?"
