Silvette said: "We are merely wiser; merely less provincial and more honest and tolerant of a world that isn’t any too goody-goody. We’ve learned to distinguish between mock modesty, false shame, hypocrisy, and honest conviction. Take Keno, for instance; before we lived there we were inclined to look askance on what the world accepts with indifference and perfect good nature. I mean, on the rather lurid gayeties of a little world where attractive divorcées make up the bulk of society—where the eternal cry in the ballroom is ’Change partners! Ladies change!’—and where nobody plays cards except for stakes. After all, Keno is merely a section of New York temporarily transplanted. He’d probably feel at home there." Diana turned, deliberately rolled across the bed, landing lightly on her feet. "All right," she said; "only, some day somebody will tell Jim Edgerton that those two cousins of his are outpacing propriety. We’re just a dash too pretty, Silvie, and we’ve simply got to be careful. There’s one enemy you and I will always have to reckon with—our own sex." She walked to the window, looked out, and stood watching the rain, her childish mouth troubled. And, presently, speaking again without turning around: "Our programme, as we have arranged it, was to be a general one—to win out, go in for everything, play the game as hard as it can be played, meet the gayer world face to face squarely, and take from it honestly all it has to offer." "Except love." "Except—that." "Love, per se, we can’t afford," said Silvette gayly; "however, it may even be included. Who knows? Material masculine eligibility need not necessarily exclude that agreeable passion, need it? Many a worthy heart beats beneath the waistcoat of the plutocrat." "The chances are against any deal in hearts, as far as we are concerned." "You’re not thinking of Jim Edgerton, are you, Di?" Diana stood, hands clasped behind her back, staring at the rain. Suddenly she pivoted on her sandals. "Yes, I am thinking of him. I’m thinking of him all the time." "That is very unwise," said Silvette gently. "I am thinking of him, but it’s only thinking.... I like him. I never liked any man better, or as well, perhaps.... And I’ve known him three days. Give me a day or two grace, and I’ll stop thinking about him." "You were quite mad over young Inwood in Keno," mused Silvette. "Yes.... I realize that I like men. I enjoy them; if I had my way, I’d carry on like the deuce with every man who took my fancy, before I come to the final decision and spoil life for myself." "You carry on like the deuce _now_, sister," said Silvette, laughing.