II
She had been a warehouse girl in Adams's lace factory before she was married. Sam Adams was her employer. He was a bachelor of forty, growing stout, a man well dressed and florid, with a large brown moustache and thin hair. From the rest of his well-groomed, showy appearance, it was evident his baldness was a chagrin to him. He had a good presence, and some Irish blood in his veins.
His fondness for the girls, or the fondness of the girls for him, was notorious. And Elsie, quick, pretty, almost witty little thing--she seemed witty, although, when her sayings were repeated, they were entirely trivial--she had a great attraction for him. He would come into the warehouse dressed in a rather sporting reefer coat, of fawn colour, and trousers of fine black-and-white check, a cap with a big peak and a scarlet carnation in his button-hole, to impress her. She was only half impressed. He was too loud for her good taste. Instinctively perceiving this, he sobered down to navy blue. Then a well-built man, florid, with large brown whiskers, smart navy blue suit, fashionable boots, and manly hat, he was the irreproachable. Elsie was impressed. But meanwhile Whiston was courting her, and she made splendid little gestures, before her bedroom mirror, of the constant-and-true sort.
"True, true till death--"
That was her song. Whiston was made that way, so there was no need to take thought for him.
Every Christmas Sam Adams gave a party at his house, to which he invited his superior work-people--not factory hands and labourers, but those above.
He was a generous man in his way, with a real warm feeling for giving pleasure.
Two years ago Elsie had attended this Christmas-party for the last time. Whiston had accompanied her. At that time he worked for Sam Adams.
She had been very proud of herself, in her close-fitting, full-skirted dress of blue silk. Whiston called for her. Then she tripped beside him, holding her large cashmere shawl across her breast. He strode with long strides, his trousers handsomely strapped under his boots, and her silk shoes bulging the pockets of his full-skirted overcoat.
They passed through the park gates, and her spirits rose. Above them the Castle Rock looked grandly in the night, the naked trees stood still and dark in the frost, along the boulevard.
They were rather late. Agitated with anticipation, in the cloak-room she gave up her shawl, donned her silk shoes, and looked at herself in the mirror. The loose bunches of curls on either side her face danced prettily, her mouth smiled.
She hung a moment in the door of the brilliantly lighted room. Many people were moving within the blaze of lamps, under the crystal chandeliers, the full skirts of the women balancing and floating, the side-whiskers and white cravats of the men bowing above. Then she entered the light.
In an instant Sam Adams was coming forward, lifting both his arms in boisterous welcome. There was a constant red laugh on his face.
"Come late, would you," he shouted, "like royalty."
He seized her hands and led her forward. He opened his mouth wide when he spoke, and the effect of the warm, dark opening behind the brown whiskers was disturbing. But she was floating into the throng on his arm. He was very gallant.
"Now then," he said, taking her card to write down the dances, "I've got carte blanche, haven't I?"
"Mr Whiston doesn't dance," she said.
"I am a lucky man!" he said, scribbling his initials. "I was born with an amourette in my mouth."
He wrote on, quietly. She blushed and laughed, not knowing what it meant.
"Why, what is that?" she said.
"It's you, even littler than you are, dressed in little wings," he said.
"I should have to be pretty small to get in your mouth," she said.
"You think you're too big, do you!" he said easily.
He handed her her card, with a bow.
"Now I'm set up, my darling, for this evening," he said.
Originally Posted by Janine
Hi Grace, no problem at all. Wow, moving, to your college I would imagine. In fact, Downing and I were discussing this just today - maybe we should take a break next month from the short story thread, what do you think? Then we can start up again in Sept. I told her - "you girls are wearing me out!"
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"It's so mysterious, the land of tears." 
It is rather funny how American or English sayings can get twisted up in translation. You were close anyway. At first I did not get your idea at all and then it dawned on me and I did have a good laugh.
but I think that she was not married to Whiston then. It is mentioned later in the story that she refused working at Adams' factory and 'in a few weeks after that' she and Whiston got married. 
