“And is it really true? Are you going to govern the Fortunate Islands?”
“I am, indeed—or rather, to be accurate, I am going to deputy-govern them—I mean, father is—for a year.”
“A whole year!” he said, looking down at her fan. “What will London do without you?”
“London will do excellently,” she answered—“and that’s my pet fan, and it’s not used to being tied into knots.” She took it from him.
“And what shall I do without you?”
“Oh! laugh and rhyme and dance and dine. You’ll go out to the proper number of dinners and dances, and make the proper measure of pretty little speeches and nice little phrases; and you’ll do your reviews, and try to make them as like your editor’s as you can; and you’ll turn out your charming little rondeaux and triolets, and the year will simply fly. Heigho! I’m glad I’m going to see something big, if it’s only the Atlantic.”
“You are very cruel,” he said.
“Am I? But it’s not cruel to be cruel if nobody’s hurt, is it? And I am so tired of nice little verses and pretty little dances and dainty little dinners. Oh, if I were only a man!”
“Thank God you’re not!” said he.
“If I were a man, I would do just one big thing in my life, even if I had to settle down to a life of snippets and trifles afterwards.”