When she spoke to Gud her voice was as musical as the song the silkworms sing.
And when Gud spoke to her, she sighed in ecstasy of lavender-scented flattery, and her eyelids drooped like languid draperies across a seacoal fire.
"I have brought my book," she murmeled as she reached into her corsage and drew forth a manuscript bound with skins of humming birds. "May I read it to you? It's title is 'Art and Wealth and Anatomy Sesame.'"
She opened the book at random—which is the proper way to open any non-fiction book written by a woman—and her voice warbled as she read:
"The lambent enoughness of atomless ultraness vegetateth for eons in ultramarine slime and thence crawleth hencely, attaining esoteric power by the sublimation of the egomania into splenetic colorature which by chemic vortices electrifying plasmic erotifcanaticism ascends to organic indefinability and multitudinous indefinity, and soareth toward the inordinate fulfillment of superconscious metapsychoses."
She of the dimpled and single chin, laid aside her manuscript and stared reproachfully at Gud. "Do you comprehend it?" she beseeched.
"Why, certainly. But what does it mean?" said Gud, who was always willing to increase his knowledge if he could do so without interfering with his previous beliefs.
"It is a new theory," replied the ruby lips, "of the conquest of anatomy. This theory is based on the hypotheses that the organ called the brain is nothing but an adventitous, radio-active tumor that yields two secretions. The external secretion is what is called the mind and the internal secretion is known as the soul. From this hypothesis there follows the tetravalent truth:
"All life is anatomy.
"All anatomy is matter.