Echoes from Storyland. New York: McLoughlin Brothers (1880s)
So she was burnt with all her clothes And arms, and hands, and eyes, and nose; Till she had nothing more to lose. Except her little scarlet shoes : And nothing else but these were found, Among her ashes on the ground.
As the author told us in 1967, “[My wife] presided as adviser and judge over the making of my first fiction in the early twenties. I have read to her all my stories and novels at least twice; and she has reread them all when typing them and correcting proofs and checking translations into several languages. One day in 1950, at Ithaca, New York, she was responsible for stopping me and urging delay and second thoughts as, beset with technical difficulties and doubts, I was carrying the first chapters of Lolita to the garden incinerator.”