“I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a duck to water?” “You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?” Ennison said stiffly. My friend the doctor suspected it, and so do I. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne. But I can't submit to hear the wellearned reputation of my friend termed an 'infamous notoriety. "Yesh," replied Abraham.
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