Another silence.
“Do you believe in the devil?” asked Elaine.
“In my own individual devil, yes.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s a wet blanket!”
Elaine laughed. “How original! Mine is a more conventional sort of devil.”
“Yes, I know.”
“How do you know?” she asked quickly.
“Can’t I have intuitions too?”
“Well, you’re entirely wrong about me,” she said vivaciously. “You have been from the first. You have a ridiculous notion that I am a sort of cavewoman. Why, if I were, would I be talking to you like this now?”