November 22
He: “Have a cigarette? I enjoy lighting your cigarettes.”
She: “I don’t know how to smoke properly.”
He: “You smoke only as you could.”
She: “How’s that?”
H.: “Gracefully, of course.”
S.: “Do you think I like pretty things being said to me?”
H.: “Why not, if they are true. Flattery is when you tell an ugly woman she is beautiful. Have you so poor an opinion of yourself to think all I say of you is flattery?”
S.: “Yes. I am only four bare walls—with nothing inside.”
H.: “What a deliciously empty feeling that must be. … But I don’t think you’re so simple as all that. You bewilder me sometimes.”
S.: “Why?”
H.: “I feel like Sindbad the Sailor.”
S.: “Why?”
H.: “Because I’m not George Meredith.” The title of “husband” frightens me.