“Where?”
“With the feminist movement.”
She laughed:
“Well, shall I be nice to you?”
“Yes.”
“And promise to help you?”
What did she care, when all was said?
“Oh, angel, demon!” he cried. He nibbled at a chocolate. “And what does Mr. van der Staal think of it?” he asked, mischievously.
She raised her eyebrows:
“He doesn’t think about it. He thinks only of his art.”