“I never made the claim, darling, though you are quite as pretty as any other fresh-faced seventeen-year-old girl. I said that you were attractive, which is something different entirely. Pretty is what one calls a pair of silk slippers or a potted orange tree. It loses its interest. No one is pretty after one has stared at them for fifteen years over the breakfast table. Attractiveness is a function of personality. Prettiness is lent to you by youth; attractiveness is purchased with experience.”
