“—And it is with the composition of this paragraph that I am just now having trouble.”
“Well, you could not possibly have consulted a more suitable person. I, too, used to dabble in the little art of letters before I became a god with four aspects. I am familiar with all rhetorical devices. I am a past master of zeugma and syllepsis; at hypallage, and chiasmus also, I excel; and my handling of meiosis and persiflage and oxymoron has been quite generally admired. So do you read me your rough draft: and I have no doubt I can arrange all difficulties for you.”
The Sphinx for a moment considered this suggestion, and, before the prospect of a connoisseur’s efficient criticism, the monster seemed rather shy.
“Do not be vexed unduly,” the Sphinx then said, “if you can find no meaning in this paragraph—”
“I shall not be excessively censorious, I assure you. No beginner is expected to excel in any art.”
“—For this paragraph was placed here simply because there happened to be a vacancy which needed filling—”
“I quite understand that. So let us get on!”
But there was no hurrying the diffident Sphinx. “The foolish, therefore,” the Sphinx continued in shy explanation, “will find in it foolishness, and will say ‘Bother!’ The wise, as wisdom goes, will reflect that this paragraph was placed here without its consent being asked; that no wit nor large significance was loaned it by its creator; and that it will be forgotten with the turning of the one page wherein it figures unimportantly—”
“No doubt it will be!” said Gerald, now speaking a little impatiently, “but let us get on to this famous paragraph!”
“—So do you turn the page forthwith, in just the care-free fashion of old nodding Time as he skims over the long book of life: and do you say either ‘Bother!’ or ‘Brother!’ as your wits prompt.”