Dianne’s glance met the ardor of my gaze without yielding, but I was gratified to observe a pleasant convulsive shudder of her adorable shoulders. “How strange, but how thrilling! Go on, Bogardus,” she said. It was not so much feminine coquetry as a feline curiosity. “We shall see,” I thought, “if the old instincts are entirely gone.” “My adorable Dianne,” I continued. “This is quite the most alluring way of staging a romance one could imagine. In my day, it was the telephone which supplied the thrills. But how simple and primitive compared to this.” “How interesting--but of course to us this is a commonplace.” “Then I have the advantage over you. I assure you I am already head over heels in love. Was anything ever more delightful or more tantalizing? I sit here. I look into your lovely eyes. I hear your charming voice. I watch every graceful movement of your body and when I reach out my hand, you elude me. What wouldn’t our coquettes have given to possess such a power of mystification!” “Bogardus, were you run after by lots of women?” said Dianne. I reflected. I did not wish to appear too modest. After all, history was as I chose to create it and this feeling I must confess gave me an extraordinary assurance. “In my day, your sex pretended to be the courted, though a great many satirists insisted the opposite was true. However, I was never exactly lonely.” “How strange to hear a man talk like this, but go on. I like it, though it gives me a funny feeling when you look at me so boldly.” “Dianne,” I said, beginning to lose my head a little. “You, a great artist should know great loves. Scientifically and socially, I confess, you have done miracles, but what have you not lost in the conquest--laughter and love!” “But Bogardus dear--” “Stop. It is impossible to give a sentimental note to the name of Bogardus--” “I confess it is rather a mouthful.” “My name for sentimental purposes is Jack.” “Jack,” she repeated, lingering over the sound. “I have even been called Jacko.” Dianne clapped her hands. “How delightful. But Jacko, my dear--laughter--what do you mean by laughter? Is it those funny faces you made a while ago?” “Laughter,” I said majestically, “was undoubtedly the invention of the first man who challenged the phantoms of the gods who oppressed him. Laughter is the will to be happy despite all the sorrow and suffering life is afflicted with. It is man’s triumph over his destinies.” “But we have done away with sorrow and suffering.” “True!” I said, struck by the thought. “Perhaps without tears, laughter _is_ impossible.” “Can’t you teach me to laugh, Jacko?” “It is possible,” I said, struck by a sudden inspiration. “Tonight we shall see.” Dianne’s expression changed swiftly. “Dear, it was specially about tonight I wanted to warn you--” “I know. Acquilla is jealous.” “How quick you are. Does she suspect your true feelings?” “She is suspicious, but I flatter myself--”