“A fine lot we’d be as an incubated race!”
Estridge laughed: “I’ve got to go,” he said, “And, if you care for Palla as you say you do, you oughtn’t to leave her entirely alone with her circle of modernist friends. Stick around! It may make you mad, but if she likes you, at least she won’t commit an indiscretion with anybody else.”
“I wish I could find my own sort as amusing,” said Jim, naïvely. “I’ve been going about recently––dances, dinners, theatres––but I can’t seem to keep my mind off Palla.”
Estridge said: “If you’d give your sense of humour half a chance you’d be all right. You take yourself too solemnly. You let Palla scare you. That’s not the way. The thing to do is to have a jolly time with her, with them all. Accept her as she thinks she is. There’s no damage done yet. Time enough to throw fits if she takes the bit and bolts–––”
He extended his hand, cordially but impatiently:
“You remember I once said that girl ought to be married and have children? If you do the marrying part she’s likely to do the rest very handsomely. And it will be the making of her.”
Jim held on to his hand:
“Tell me what to do, Jack. She isn’t in love with me. And she wouldn’t submit to a legal ceremony if she were. You invoke my sense of humour. I’m willing to give it an airing, only I can’t see anything funny in this business.”
“It is funny! Palla’s funny, but doesn’t know it. You’re funny! They’re all funny––unintentionally. But their motives are tragically immaculate. So stick around and have a good time with Palla until there’s really something to scare you.”