THE BETTER SORT
red.' Yet isn't it, after all, sufficiently lurid that he shall lose his blooming bride?"
"You're sure," Maud appealed, "that he'll lose her?"
"Poetic justice screams for it; and my whole interest in the matter is staked on it."
But the girl continued to brood. "I thought you contend that nobody's half 'decent.' Where do you find a woman to make such a condition?"
"Not easily, I admit." The young man thought. "It will be his luck to have found her. That's his tragedy, say, that she can financially save him, but that she happens to be just the one freak, the creature whose stomach has turned. The spark—I mean of decency—has got, after all, somehow to be kept alive; and it may be lodged in this particular female form."
"I see. But why should a female form that's so particular confess to an affinity with a male form that's so fearfully general? As he's all self-advertisement, why isn't it much more natural to her simply to loathe him?"
"Well, because, oddly enough, it seems that people don't."
"You do," Maud declared. "You'll kill him."
He just turned a flushed cheek to her, and she saw that she had touched something that lived in him. "We can," he consciously smiled, "deal death. And the beauty is that it's in a perfectly straight way. We can lead them on. But have you ever seen Beadel-Muffet for yourself?" he continued.
"No. How often, please, need I tell you that I've seen nobody and nothing?"
"Well, if you had you'd understand."
"You mean he's so fetching?"
"Oh, he's great. He's not 'all' self-advertisement—or at least he doesn't seem to be: that's his pull. But I see, you female humbug," Bight pursued, "how much you'd like him yourself."
336
