"Well! is that all? Some men could not be ridiculous if they tried."
"You are thinking of Mr. Trennahan, of course. If he did, I do believe you wouldn't see it. But I should; I have a hideous sense of the ridiculous. Well, lemme see. He must have read and travelled and thought a lot, so that he would know more than I, and I could look up to him; also that subjects of conversation would not give out. The platitudes of love! That would be fatal."
"I don't believe they ever sound like platitudes."
"Hm! I won't undertake to discuss that point, knowing my limitations. What next? He must have suffered. That gives a man weight, as the sculptors say. My quartette will be much more interesting to the next divinity than they are to me. Then of course he must have charming manners and an agreeable voice: I could not stand the brain of a Bismark in the skull of an Apollo if he had a nasal American voice. I believe that's all. I'm not so particular about looks, so long as he's neither small nor fat."
"And if you found all that wouldn't you marry it?"
"N-o-o—I don't know—but I'd be engaged a good long time. You see I want to be a belle for years and years."
"And what is to become of the poor men when you are through with them?"
"Oh, they'll get over it. I shall. Why shouldn't they?"
"I thought you said once you wanted to marry a statesman."
"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. I'll consider that question ten years hence. I want to be a perfectly famous belle first."