Curtis's money, she felt that her important work was in connection with her writing. She autographed hundreds of copies of books for bazaars; Fly in Amber, selling well, supported several war orphans; and she never said no to a request for a benefit reading. Two or three times a week she could be seen coming out of her Venetian house, a Venetian lady in a black tricorne, with a small black lace mask of veil shading her mysterious eyes, going to read her poems somewhere. "Perhaps they will comfort some one just a little," she said, wistfully.
"It seems to me so wrong not to try to bring as much beauty into this poor ugly world as you can, especially now," she said to Austin Weeks. "I feel as if, just because my own heart is so heavy—oh, Austin, so heavy, so heavy!—I must make an effort, now of all times, to try to look as nice as I can." And to his answer she had to reply: "Oh, Austin, you mustn't talk like that! You mustn't spoil me!"
So when she read before clubs and circles,
