"
It wasn't necessary to explain things to The Author, because a
portion of his brain is purely and cattily feminine. That's why he
is a genius. No man is a genius whose brain isn't bisexual.
"I shall have to lay aside a cherished prejudice and lend this lady
the light of my countenance, although I loathe card-parties. I abhor
cards, outside of draw-poker on shipboard, with a crook of sorts
sitting in to lend the game a fillip. Despite the fact that poor
Mrs. Scarboro couldn't lay hands on a decent crook to save her life,
I think I shall go, and thereby acquire merit," he concluded, with
the air of a martyr.
I looked at him gratefully.
"I'll wager that little Sophy thinks she wants to go because she
desires to be friends and neighbors. 'Behold how good and how
pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!'--You're a
transparent person, you Sophy!"
"But I do desire to be friends with them. I have to live here all
the rest of my life, haven't I?"
"Not necessarily," replied The Author, arching his eyebrows. "For
instance, you can live in New York any time you want to, Sophy."
"I've never told you that you might call me Sophy," I parried,
hastily.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254