"Then why don't you practice your theory on her?"
"My theory," he replied, "is the result of my experience with Clelia. That is how I came to evolve it. I believe in it, too. But it's too late to try on Clelia. Because already she has my number, Michael, and she knows me for a solemn, single-minded, and serious ass, very, very deeply in love with her. She's on to me, Michael."
I remembered my episode with Clelia and considered it for a while in silence. It was apparent to me that the girl's affections were completely and healthily disengaged. Her desire for happiness, her almost pagan love of gayety, her sheer delight in the mere joy of living, were not unmoral. And if, in her pursuit of pleasure there seemed something feverish, reckless, that was explained by her odd idea that she had but a little while to live.
"No use to argue, explain, reason, or preach to that girl," said I. "The thing to do is to give her a jolt."
"A jolt?" he repeated. "There's nothing left for me to say or do that could disconcert that girl. She knows I'm in love with her; she knows that I have lived a morally decent life, that my high ideals concerning women have never been lowered, that, to me, love is a sacred——"
"You tried to kiss her sister."
"That," he said, reddening painfully, "was my only lapse from the rigid conservatism of a life-time. And doubtless I am now suffering from that moment of relaxation into folly——"
"Doubtless you are not!" I returned. "I am certain that Thusis never mentioned it to Clelia. And I'm sorry she didn't because it might have furnished the required jolt."
Smith became gloomily interested.
"A jolt," I repeated, "is what starts things. Clelia requires one. All you need is nerve to administer it."