But he doesn't like
the things that I like, and so, as far as I'm concerned, he's
uninteresting."
"Hm." Her curiosity seemed, at length, satisfied. She sank back into the
sofa and sipped her cocktail.
"You're a funny one," she commented thoughtfully. "Does everybody want
to marry you because your grandfather is rich?"
"They don't--but I shouldn't blame them if they did. Still, you see, I
never intend to marry."
She scorned this.
"You'll fall in love someday. Oh, you will--I know." She nodded wisely.
"It'd be idiotic to be overconfident. That's what ruined the Chevalier
O'Keefe."
"Who was he?"
"A creature of my splendid mind. He's my one creation, the Chevalier."
"Cra-a-azy!" she murmured pleasantly, using the clumsy rope ladder with
which she bridged all gaps and climbed after her mental superiors.
Subconsciously she felt that it eliminated distances and brought the
person whose imagination had eluded her back within range.
"Oh, no!" objected Anthony, "oh, no, Geraldine. You mustn't play the
alienist upon the Chevalier. If you feel yourself unable to understand
him I won't bring him in. Besides, I should feel a certain uneasiness
because of his regrettable reputation.
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