Polly lamented that she had spent too much time being beautiful.
It was not her fault that life's capricious art had fashioned her so very lovely. Though her outward pulchritude was quite evenly matched by an inner beauty of unsurpassed purity, the young lady was nonetheless uneasy with her separateness from the ordinary folk. This is not to say that her female companions were inordinately jealous of Polly's exquisiteness. Her goodness of heart and selflessness toward friend and stranger alike totally leveled the playing field as to how we petty humans tend to discriminate on the basis of one's personal appearance.
The problem lay, however, with the male of the species. Despite feigning gallantry and courteous attentiveness toward the not completely naive Polly, her numerous suitors inevitably showed who they truly were at heart ...
Men are beasts ...
Can the goodness of even one so pure of heart rein in the rapacious nature of men on the prowl and tame it into amiable domesticity?