"Oh, love-making is just as much a science as anything else, and there is no reason why it shouldn't progress. There are modern methods, you know; it's only a form of hypnotism." He smiled blandly.
When he and Clytie were alone—a situation she seemed to delay as much as possible—Cayley sat down opposite her with an ingratiating, disarming smile. He was neither eager nor impressive. He was sure of himself. It did not, as he had said, seem to matter a great deal about her emotions; he scarcely considered her otherwise than as a mind whose defenses he was to overthrow in an intellectual contest. He began with elaborate circumlocution.
"Well, I've discovered something."
Her delicate eyebrows rose.
"It is a curious botanical fact that there are four thousand lamp-posts in the city of San Francisco."
"Why botanical?"
"That is just what I expected you to ask."
"Then I'll not ask it." She was already on the defense.
"But you did!"
"Well?" She appeared to resent his tone.