It was a superstitionone of those strange beliefs as intangible as the wraiths in an old English abbey. They said that pearls were tears. . . . The tears of veiled empresses, in shadowed throne rooms. The tears of kings, lost forever to power. Tears for love, which could never be requitedfor ambition, which could never be fulfilledfor hope, which could never know realization.
The occasion which called for such writing in behalf of a store, was a great one. With the pomp of an abdicating dynasty the Manhattan jewel firm of Dreicer was...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
