“Do you know,” she said slowly, “it’s the truest thing I ever heard.
It’s as true as taxes. But where do _you_ come in?”
“I wasn’t thinking of us,” I said hurriedly. “I merely meant—if you
wished to be more attractive——”
“Attractive!”—with her little nose in the air. “I guess it’s you that
will have to worry about your attractions, if that comes along. I won’t
waste any more time on you to-day. I’ve got to think this out, and talk
it out, too, with Inez and Janet.”
She rose and began to pull on her gloves, but absently.
I felt exactly like a man who has set a time-fuse in a powder magazine.
The Serpent himself must have possessed me when I introduced his wisdom
to a head cram-full of it already.
“It’s the merest nonsense, Joan. It isn’t in the Talmud. The Serpent
never thought of it. I made it all up.”
“You couldn’t. It isn’t in you. Or, if you did, it was an inspiration
from on high.”
“From below,” I said weakly.
She smiled to herself—a dangerous smile.
“I must go. And you really were a little less dull than usual. Come
again on Tuesday. The moral of it all is, so far, that the poets are
really worth cultivating. I will begin with you!”
She flashed away like a humming bird, and I retired, to read my
Schopenhauer. But the serious question is—shall I go on Tuesday?
STATELY JULIA
A STORY OF ENCHANTMENTS