"She would be proud to hear you say so. She considers the American woman the crowning triumph of civilisation."
Erhart made a profane exclamation. "Then civilisation might as well come to an end. It would, too, if it depended on the American woman. She would have no children, she would starve out the men, and then what? A lot of Kilkenny cats, they would eat one another. A tough meal your aunt would make, too! I believe she's made of whalebone and gutta-percha."
"You like women made of butter and jam, don't you?"
"Oh, heavens, I don't like any kind of women," said Erhart, getting up to go. "At least any show kind. They ought to be kept behind the veil. Tell your aunt that, from me."
He lingered a moment, moving about with his oddly beautiful hands the small pieces of porcelain on the mantelpiece, then said: "I'm sorry I have bored you. But I'm not sorry I was rude to your aunt."
"Oh—rudeness is the most boring thing, I think," murmured Teresa. "I hate quarrelling, especially at meals."
"You call all discussion quarrelling! What would you have? Everybody bowing and scraping and agreeing with one another? …"
"Oh, I'm not going to discuss with you!" said Teresa, laughing, and he finally took him-
