“The very deuce was in me,” she sighed. “Even now, unless I’m occupied with all my might, something begins––to simmer in me–––”
She turned and looked at him: “––A sort of enchanted madness that makes me wild to seize the whole world and set it right!––take it into my arms and defend it––die for it––or slay it and end its pain.”
“Too much of an armful,” he said with great gravity. “The thing to do is to select an individual and take him to your heart.”
“And slay him?” she inquired gaily.
“Certainly––like the feminine mantis––if you find you don’t like him. Individual suitors must take their chances of being either eaten or adored.”
“Jim, you’re so funny.”
She swung her stool, rested her elbow on the piano, and gazed at him interrogatively, the odd, half-smile edging her lips and eyes. And, after a little duetto of silence:
“Do you suppose I shall ever come to care for you––imprudently?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“How could you help it? And, as far as that goes, how could I, if it happened?”