Excerpt from Overland Monthly, Vol. 27: January-June, 1896
The Artist ceased his interminable pencil sharpening, offered the fair author his chair, and said he Would be delighted. Clarissa impressed you with the thought that you had somewhere met before, possibly in another world. She had faded ringlets and a black silk dress, a knit shawl and pale blue teeth. She was not beau tiful, but there was a quiet, determined look in her eyes that lent dignity to a mole to the right of her nose. Seven or eight wiry hairs were doing well on the mole.
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