Fancy being the author of
babies when one could be the author of books! _Don't_
tell me you'd rather!"
"I!" said Janet "Oh, I'm out of it. But I approve the
principle."
"Besides, the commonplaceness, the eternal routine, the
being tied together, the--the domestic virtues! It must
be death, absolute death, to any fineness of nature. No,"
Elfrida went on decisively, "people with anything in them
that is worth saving may love as much as they feel
disposed, but they ought to keep their freedom. And some
of them do nowadays."
"Do you mean," said Janet slowly, "that they dispense
with the ceremony?"
"They dispense with the condition. They--they don't go
so far."
"I thought you didn't believe in Platonics," Janet
answered, with wilful misunderstanding.
"You know I don't believe in them. Any more," Elfrida
added lightly, "than I believe in this exaltation you
impute to the race of a passion it shares with--with the
mollusks. It's pure self-flattery."
There was a moment's silence. Elfrida clasped her hands
behind her head and turned her face toward the window so
that all the light that came through softly gathered in
it. Janet felt the girl's beauty as if it were a burden,
pressing with literal physical weight upon her heart She
made a futile effort to lift it with words.
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