“Adoration isn’t the word. And you know it.”
“And letters are not to be forwarded?” said Miss Van Tuyn.
“I heard so.”
“Ah! when you went to call on her!”
“Now you are merely guessing!”
“It must be terrible to be old!” said Miss Van Tuyn, with a change of manner. “Just think of going off alone to the Riviera in the autumn at the age of sixty! Beauties ought to die at fifty. Plain women can live to a hundred if they like, and it doesn’t really matter. Their tragedy is not much worse then than it is at thirty-five. But beauties should never live beyond fifty—at the very latest.”
“Then you must commit suicide at that age.”
“Thank you. The old women in hotels!”
She shivered, and it seemed to him that her body shook naturally, as if it couldn’t help shaking.
“But—remember—she’ll come back with her sheaves!” she added, looking at him. “And then the ‘old guard’ will fall upon her.”