Phyllis of Philistia

Phyllis of Philistia

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Phyllis of Philistia by Frank Frankfort Moore

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Phyllis of Philistia

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urch in pride of conquest; but she looked demurely down to her sacred books, feeling that all the other women were gazing at her in envy; and she felt that there was no pride in the thought that the humility of her attitude--downcast eyes, with long lashes shading half her cheeks, meekly folded hands--was the right one to adopt under the circumstances.

And then she saw several of the young women who had been wearing sober shades of dresses for some years,--though in their hearts (and she knew it) they were passionately attached to colors,--appearing like poppies once more, and looking very much the better for the change, too; and she felt that it was truly sad for young women to--well, to show their hands, so to speak. They might have waited for some weeks before returning to the colors of the secular.

She did not know that they felt that they had wasted too much time in sober shades already. The days are precious in a world in which no really trustworthy hair dye may be bought for money.

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