“I wouldn’t put it beyond you. But give me a form of forcible language that would fit in with his exposition.”
“Well, the only one that presents itself at all to me is ‘Damn it.’ You see ‘it’ means nothing in particular, is quite impersonal, and therefore no one is any the worse for it, yourself included.”
“You’re an advocate of that particular form?” said he.
“I’d allow it to you upon occasion, but not to myself.”
“Indeed! Why?”
“Because if I were a perfect woman I’d never have any inclination to go further than the ‘d.’”
“You’re striving after the perfect woman?”
“Yes,” sighed Rosalie; “but she’s very delusive. It’s so easy to overstep the bounds and become saintly.”
He laughed. “I don’t think you’ll ever be that.”
“But why?”