"What's prettiness? The power to attract. If you were a genuine,
all-around, Grade-A woman--you'd have the power to attract, without
trying to impress a soul. As a pretty girl--you're not superior to a
hundred thousand others--and inferior to tens of thousands."
"At least," she murmured, "I'm trying."
"Are you?"
"Am I not?"
"Who can really tell but you? For all I know, Yvonne, you may just be
indulging in some new paroxysm of the spoiled rich matron."
"I did want to call Rol, though."
"Sure. When you had the jitters. Flight, maybe."
"Then do you think I ought to wallow in myself?"
"It's your word--wallow."
She was silent for quite a while. Finally she drew a breath and
stretched voluptuously. "Did you ever feel as if you'd like to seduce
everybody you saw?"
"Just the good-looking women."
"Are you trying to impress me--now?"