"Nevertheless," he raised his tea-cup gallantly, "To the
ladies!" He got up, leisurely. "And now I go," said he, "to paint
the lily and adorn the rose. In short, to set forth in adequate and
remunerative language the wit, wisdom, virtue, beauty, and
ornateness of woman as she thinks men think she is. Nature,"
reflected The Author, smiling at The Suffragist, "made me a writer.
The devil, the editors, and the women have made me a best-seller."
And he departed, a cooky in each hand.
That night one of the Gatchell boys took Alicia to a dance. She was
in blue and white, like an angel, and the Gatchell boy trod on air.
But to me came Doctor Richard Geddes, and threw himself into a
wing-chair.
"Sophronisba Two," he asked, we being alone in the library, "what
have I done to offend Alicia?"
"Is Alicia offended?"
"Isn't she?" wondered the doctor. "She won't let me get near enough
to find out," he added gloomily. "And it isn't just. She ought to
know that--well, that I'd rather cut off my right hand than give her
real cause for offense. I'm going to ask you a straight, man
question; is that girl a--a flirt? She is not a--jilt?"
"Heaven forbid!"
"Does she care for anybody else?"
"On my honor, I don't know.
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