So when Millie Whitcomb, of the fancy goods and notions,
expressed her hunger for a homely heroine, I did not resent the
suggestion. On the contrary, it sent me home in thoughtful mood,
for Millie Whitcomb has acquired a knowledge of human nature in
the dispensing of her fancy goods and notions. It set me casting
about for a really homely heroine.
There never has been a really ugly heroine in fiction. Authors
have started bravely out to write of an unlovely woman, but they
never have had the courage to allow her to remain plain. On Page
237 she puts on a black lace dress and red roses, and the
combination brings out unexpected tawny lights in her hair, and
olive tints in her cheeks, and there she is, the same old
beautiful heroine. Even in the "Duchess " books one finds the
simple Irish girl, on donning a green corduroy gown cut square at
the neck, transformed into a wild-rose beauty, at sight of whom a
ball-room is hushed into admiring awe. There's the case of Jane
Eyre, too. She is constantly described as plain and mouse-like,
but there are covert hints as to her gray eyes and slender figure
and clear skin, and we have a sneaking notion that she wasn't
such a fright after all.
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