The beautiful Reva had entered the same car with Utis and me. In spite of my admiration, however, it was with somewhat mixed feelings that I contemplated the possibility of a conversation with her. If she would only be content to do all the talking herself, how gladly would I listen. But should she refer—as naturally she would—to whence I came, and what I had seen, how in the world was I to reply? What, indeed. could I say at all, without seeming to have taken leave of my senses? A wild idea occurred to me. I might assume the rôle of a deaf-mute. But besides placing me in a false position, from which extrication would be difficult, the rôle was not a brilliant one. A moment's reflection, too, convinced me that it was too late: she must have seen me conversing with Utis.
Even should she defray the whole expense of the conversation, leaving me at liberty to assume the role of listener, matters would be but slightly bettered. I recalled with dismay the mauvais quart d'heure I once had passed, while a fair Bostonian demonstrated to me the thesis of the interconvertibility of the thingness of noth-
28
