I was frankly affectionate, and it
made him suspicious of me.
Then I tried to tell him just a little, only a hint, of my new attitude
towards his sex, and before he had had time even to grasp the idea he
exploded.
"Don't talk to me as if you were an alienist trying to examine an
abstruse case, Evelina," he growled, with extreme temper. "Go on down
and rusticate with your relatives for the summer, and fly the bats in
your belfry at the old moss-backs, while I am getting this Cincinnati
and Gulf Stations commission under way. Then, when I can, I will come
for you. Let's don't discuss the matter, and it's time I took you back
to your hotel."
Not a very encouraging tilt for my maiden lance.
I've had a thought. If I should turn and woo Dickie, like he does me, I
suppose we would be going-so fast in opposite directions that we would
be in danger of passing each other without recognizing signals. I wonder
if that might get to be the case of humanity at large if women do
undertake the tactics I am to experiment with, and a dearth of any kind
of loving and claiming at all be the result. I will elucidate that idea
and shoot it into Jane. But I have no hope; she'll have the answer
ticketed away in the right pigeon-hole, statistics and all, ready to
fire back at me.
I have a feeling that Jane won't expect such a diary as this locked cell
of a book is becoming, but I can select what looks like data for the
young from these soul squirmings, and only let her have those for The
Five.
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