"I wish her to remain a child as long as possible, for she is quite
perfect as she is. She is bright and all that, but of course she has no
intellect--"
Gora forgot her message of death and laughed outright.
"Men--American men, anyhow--are really the funniest things in the world.
Even intellectual men are absurd in their patronizing attitude toward the
cleverest of women; but when it conies to mere masculine arrogance...don't
you really respect any woman's brains?"
"I never denied that some women were clever and all that, but the best of
them cannot compare with men. You must admit that."
"I admit nothing of the sort, but I know your type too well to waste any
time in argument--"
"My type?"
She longed to reply: "The smaller a man's brain the more enveloping his
mere male arrogance. Instinct of self-defense like the turtle's shell or
the porcupine's quills or the mephitic weasel's extravasations." But she
never quarreled with Morty, and to have shared with him her opinion of his
endowments would have been to deprive herself of a good deal of secret
amusement.
"Oh, you're all alike," she said lightly, and added: "Don't be too sure
that Alexina hasn't intellect-the real thing. When she emerges from this
beatific dream of youth she has almost hugged to death for fear it might
escape her, and begins to think--"
"I'll do her thinking."
"All right, dear.
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