"By all means," he answered. "But why, particularly, just now? I was beginning to fancy myself young under the stress of present circumstances."
"Because even if one continues to keep one's emotions creditably—effervescent—one loses early the single-minded glow of contest."
"A single-minded glow is a thing that should be retained, even at considerable cost."
"And what is worse yet, one grows critical about language," she continued calmly, "and gives free rein to a naturally unpleasant disposition under cover of a refined and sensitive taste."
Ellis Arnold smiled tolerantly.
"They are pretty sure to keep their lead now," he said. "The other boat is more than a length behind, and losing. They are not pulling badly, either," he added. "You were saying?"—and he turned towards her for the first time since the start.
She was a handsome blonde-haired woman, perfectly dressed, with the seal of distinction set upon features, figure, and expression.
"That was what I was saying," she replied, "that the ones that are behind are not pulling badly."
"More sphinx-like than ever," he murmured. "I perceive that you speak in parables."
Miss Normaine laughed a little. The conversation was decidedly intermittent. They dropped it entirely at times, and then took it up as if there had been no pause. It was after a brief silence that she went on: "But you and I can see both boats—the success, and the disappointment too. And we can't, for the life of us, help feeling that it's hard on those who have put forth all their strength for defeat."