Antony talked a little faster than usual. It seemed as if he was breathing rather quickly.
"I shall give you this book. It only came out last year. I think it is one of the most delightful things that ever was written. You must read it carefully." And he put it into my hand. "The description, in the beginning, of the ingredients which God used to create woman is quite exquisite. Listen, I will read it to you." And he took the book again.
His voice is the most refined and the tones are deep. One cannot say what quality there is in some voices and pronunciation that makes them so attractive. If Antony were an ugly man he still would be alluring with such a voice as his. I listened intently until the last word.
"It is, indeed, a beautiful description," I said.
"You probably are all those things, Comtesse, except, perhaps, the 'chattering of the monkeys.' You don't speak much."
"And do you feel like 'man'?"
"That I cannot do with you, or without you? Yes, especially the latter part of the sentence."
I got up from the sofa and looked about the room. It seemed as if we were getting on dangerous ground.
"How comfortable men make their habitations! And I like the smell," I said, sniffing. "The pine-logs, I suppose."
"And the cedar panelling, perhaps, scents the place a little when it gets hot."