“There may be something in that,” said Mrs. Davilow, languidly. “But I don’t know what good there is in making one’s blood creep. And if there is anything horrible to be done, I should like it to be left to the men.” “Oh, mamma, you are so dreadfully prosaic! As if all the great poetic criminals were not women! I think the men are poor cautious creatures.” “Well, dear, and you—who are afraid to be alone in the night—I don’t think you would be very bold in crime, thank God.” “I am not talking about reality, mamma,” said Gwendolen, impatiently. Then her mamma being called out of the room, she turned quickly to her cousin, as if taking an opportunity, and said, “Anna, do ask my uncle to let us get up some charades at the rectory. Mr. Middleton and Warham could act with us—just for practice. Mamma says it will not do to have Mr. Middleton consulting and rehearsing here. He is a stick, but we could give him suitable parts. Do ask, or else I will.” “Oh, not till Rex comes. He is so clever, and such a dear old thing, and he will act Napoleon looking over the sea. He looks just like Napoleon. Rex can do anything.” “I don’t in the least believe in your Rex, Anna,” said Gwendolen, laughing at her. “He will turn out to be like those wretched blue and yellow water-colors of his which you hang up in your bedroom and worship.” “Very well, you will see,” said Anna. “It is not that I know what is clever, but he has got a scholarship already, and papa says he will get a fellowship, and nobody is better at games. He is cleverer than Mr. Middleton, and everybody but you call Mr. Middleton clever.” “So he may be in a dark-lantern sort of way. But he _is_ a stick. If he had to say, ‘Perdition catch my soul, but I do love her,’ he would say it in just the same tone as, ‘Here endeth the second lesson.’” “Oh, Gwendolen!” said Anna, shocked at these promiscuous allusions. “And it is very unkind of you to speak so of him, for he admires you very much. I heard Warham say one day to mamma, ‘Middleton is regularly spooney upon Gwendolen.’ She was very angry with him; but I know what it means. It is what they say at college for being in love.” “How can I help it?” said Gwendolen, rather contemptuously. “Perdition catch my soul if I love _him_.” “No, of course; papa, I think, would not wish it. And he is to go away soon. But it makes me sorry when you ridicule him.” “What shall you do to me when I ridicule Rex?” said Gwendolen, wickedly.