If she did not exist for him, why did he seek her out? If she
did, why did he pretend she did not? Or was Lady Maria right? Were his
sensations awake, and had they fired his imagination, to carry her to
Cythera, and keep her hidden there? These questions amused her, and she
made no attempt to answer them. Amusement might cease that way: she
indulged herself and left her questions open. One thing may be added.
Morosine no longer reminded her of Senhouse. Quite otherwise--for of
Senhouse just now she dared not think.
Her friend Bill Chevenix gave her no warnings. Even when she sounded for
them, he gave none. "I like Alexis," he said once. "He's not so original
as he makes out, but there's enough to give him a relish. A handy chap,
too, in a dozen ways--he'll model you in wax, or draw you in pastels, or
sing about you on the guitar, or whistle you off on the piano; but he's
not strong, isn't Alexis. The one thing he can do--no, there are two. He
can ride anything, and he can use a revolver. I saw him empty the ten of
hearts once: very pretty. I dare say, if he was put to it, he could use an
iron to some purpose; but we don't stick each other here, so he'd be out
of practice.
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