He implied that such ignorance stood alone in his experience. Really he was delighted at the cleanness of the slate on which he had to write. And Sophia was not a bit alarmed. She relished instruction from his lips. It was a pleasure to her to learn from that exhaustless store of worldly knowledge. To the world she would do her best to assume omniscience in its ways, but to him, in her present mood, she liked to play the ignorant, uninitiated little thing.
“Why,” he said, “the Schneider has been the rage since last year but one. Absolutely the rage.”
“I do wish I’d noticed her!” said Sophia.
“As soon as the Varietes reopens we’ll go and see her,” he replied, and then gave his detailed version of the career of Hortense Schneider.
More joys for her in the near future! She had yet scarcely penetrated the crust of her bliss. She exulted in the dazzling destiny which comprised freedom, fortune, eternal gaiety, and the exquisite Gerald.
As they crossed the Place de la Concorde, she inquired, “Are we going back to the hotel?”
“No,” he said. “I thought we’d go and have supper somewhere, if it isn’t too early.”
“After all that dinner?”
“All what dinner? You ate about five times as much as me, anyhow!”
“Oh, I’m ready!” she said.