“No, I shall not forget.”
“Well, such things happen. I might forget you if it were not for the stocks.”
“Then I shall keep the stocks, even if they fall.”
“And we should both fall together. That would be some compensation. Not much. Going to smash with you would be something like going to church with Mr. Lyon. It might have a steadying effect.”
“What has come over you tonight, Carmen?” Henderson asked, leaning forward with an expression of half amusement, half curiosity.
“I've been thinking—doesn't that astonish you?—about life. It is very serious. I got some new views talking with that Miss Debree from Brandon. Chiefly from what she didn't say. She is such a lovely girl, and just as unsophisticated—well, as we are. I fear I shocked her by telling her your opinion of French novels.”
“You didn't tell her that I approved of all the French novels you read?”
“Oh no! I didn't say you approved of any. It sort of came out that you knew about them. She is so downright and conscientious. I declare I felt virtuous shivers running all over me all the time I was with her. I'm conscientious myself. I want everybody to know the worst of me. I wish I could practice some concealment. But she rather discourages me. She would take the color out of a career. She somehow doesn't allow for color, I could see. Duty, duty—that is the way she looks at life. She'd try to keep me up to it; no playing by the way. I liked her very much. I like people not to have too much toleration. She would be just the wife for some nice country rector.”
“Perhaps I ought to tell her your plan for her? I dined with her last night at the Stotts'.”
“Yes?” Carmen had been wondering if he would tell her of that. “Was it very dull?”