“I get it.”
“It, Your Majesty?”
“It—you—the secret power that has made you the desire of men and devils. Who would have thought to look at you that it was only a case of lust beget lust?”
“Oh, don’t say that!”
He leered. “Why a pretense of apology between two bad ones like us? Instead of protesting virtues of which you ought to be ashamed, realize that your guilt as charged makes your desirability one-hundred-per-cent-plus down here, as it did on Earth.”
Evidently not interested in her agreement, he turned away and began to pace the floor.
“This has been a red-letter night to me. Do you know, you’re not telling a good story—not good at all. It has elements that quite hold me. We’ve had the vamp in books, over the footlights and on the screen. I thought I knew the types and methods forward and backward—especially back. But your delineation of a young girl who is without design because herself unconscious of the prurience in her, who appeals to the best in men by her guilelessness and the worst by her sleeping desire, who, although intending well, spreads disaster in her wake—— No matter what its claims to truth, sweet Grief, it makes a damned bad story.”
He stopped directly before her in time to hear a murmured appeal to her guardian companions.
“Innocentia, must I believe these dreadful things about myself? If they are not true, help me to prove them false, dear, dear Amor.”
Approvingly the Satanic chuckle sounded. “Consistent to fanaticism in your part! As you like. But let’s get to the end. Forget the asterisks. Pull up the curtain. Give us the expurgated lines.”