“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
subject for the serious consideration of Professor Hugo Munsterberg of Harvard University.
And so this Hebe, this Diana—who was any age you choose and not a day over—walked along with Captain Ponsonby, looking like a woman of thirty,—not because she was good or bad, had lived well or ill, but because it was preordained that a woman just like her should exist, to mix things up on this poor little humdrum globe of ours, and set the sluggish blood of boot-blacks and butlers of princes and prize-fighters, of clerks, cab drivers, kings and crossing-sweepers dancing through their veins, and to stimulate them to actions of all sorts—good, bad or indifferent—just like a cocktail, a sermon or a pint of champagne. Had she wished consistently to do so, Lily Trevelyan could have accomplished more good in the world, have been a greater influence for the elevation of mankind, than a Parkhurst or a Pankhurst, a T. DeWitt Anybody. But unfortunately she was not consistent, and the wind of her emotions never blew long in the same direction although It often blew at eighty miles an hour.
Thus they proceeded toward the second-161
