“You will not insert the thin end of the wedge; you will not cause me to allow luxuries to creep into my life? Oh, I have set myself so strenuously against all that sort of thing. I live so fixedly by rule. Now, a carpet to the floor, an easy-chair to lounge in, curtains to the windows to keep out the racking heat of the midday sun—all these things would be sins in a person like me. You will not insist, too, upon my spending money—money, that precious gift—on dress. Oh, I assure you the simplest covering does. You know how short our lives are; and our bodies, are they not just clothes for the soul? Why need we pamper the body. It is the soul that lives forever; it alone requires careful attention.”
“Why, Belle, you ought to have been in a nunnery.”
“There, now, you are laughing at me.”
“I am not, indeed; but I do feel that the soul is more comfortable, and more likely to thrive, if it is lodged in a nicely cared for body. Why should it not have a nice, pretty house to live in? And as to dress, I do hope you will allow me to say one thing: that a dress, however simple, ought to be whole and decent-looking and clean.”
“Oh, of course, I admit that; but is anything the matter with mine?”
“Have you a clothes brush, dear: I should so like to brush off the mud from the tail of your skirt.”
“Thank you, thank you; but I cannot permit it. You are now verging into the commonplace. You resemble that terrible young person, Letitia Chetwynd. She is really, I assure you, one of the trials of my life. She is a butterfly, impossible to be suppressed. She visits me in my room and insists upon talking her frivolous nonsense until my head aches. I repeat the words of the great masters of literature, under my breath, when she is present. She sees me muttering, and yet she will not go. There she sits with needle and thread repairing my garments, and I—I permit it.”
“I think she is awfully kind to you,” said Leslie. “You ought to be grateful.”
“I’m not—I can’t be. She and I are abhorrent each to the other. As the poles are we asunder. But do not let us waste these precious moments talking of her. I want so much to hear about yourself—your ambitions, your hopes, your desires. What, for instance, are your aims with regard to literature? You will take honors, of course?”
“I don’t know,” replied Leslie. “It requires a great deal of talent to take honors in work like mine; but I will admit that I am struggling very hard with that object in view.”