just a bit of text

She might have been you, me, or some quaint blend: Nature chose me so as to wrench and rend your heart and mine. At first we'd smile and say: "All little girls are plump" or "Jim McVey (the family oculist) will cure that slight squint in no time." And later: "She'll be quite pretty, you know"; and trying to assuage the swelling torment: "That's the awkward age." "She should take riding lessons," you would say (your eyes and mine not meeting). "She should play Tennis, or badminton. Less starch, more fruit. She may not be a beauty, but she's cute."