“Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. On Thursday we embark for South America. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won. She wanted him so badly it hurt. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. Shoving between them, she confronted the captain herself. He could not doubt it. S. ’ ‘Not dead, miss. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe.
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