"Tell them, my dear, I'm quite simple. I represent the original conception of the Hetæra, a companion. I don't want to be made love to, and every man who makes love to me I dislike. If I ever do fall in love, I'll be a man's slave. Of that I'm sure. So don't utter dark warnings, for I've warned myself already. I do want a certain number of things--nice dresses, because I owe them to myself, good books, and--well, really, I think that's all. In return for the dresses and the books--I suppose one ought to add an occasional fiver just to show there's no ill feeling about preferring to sleep in my own room--in return for very little. I'm ready to talk, walk, laugh, sing, dance, tell incomparably bawdy stories, and, what is after all the most valuable return of all, I'm ready to sit perfectly still and let myself be bored to death while giving him an idea that I'm listening intelligently. Of course, sometimes I do listen intelligently without being bored. In that case I let him off with books only." "You really are an extraordinary girl," said Olive. "You, on the other hand, my dear," Sylvia went on, "always give every man the hope that if he's wise and tender, and of course lavish--ultimately all men believe in the pocket--he will be able to cry Open Sesame to the mysterious treasure of romantic love that he discerns in your dark eyes, in your caressing voice, and in your fervid aspirations. In the end you'll give it all to a curly-headed actor and live happily ever afterward at Ravenscourt Park. Farewell to Coriolanus in his smart waistcoat; farewell to Julius Cæsar and his amber cigarette-holder; farewell to every nincompoop with a top-hat as bright as a halo; farewell incidentally to Dolly Lonsdale, who'll discover that Ravenscourt Park is too difficult for the chauffeur to find." "Oh, Sylvia, shut up!" Olive said. "I believe you drank too much champagne at lunch." "I'm glad you reminded me," Sylvia cried. "By Jove! I'd forgotten the fizz. That's where we all meet on common ground--or rather, I should say in common liquid. It sounds like mixed bathing. It is a kind of mixed bathing, after all. You're quite right, Olive, whatever our different tastes in men, clothes, and behavior, we all must have champagne. Champagne is a bloody sight thicker than water, as the prodigal said when his father uncorked a magnum to wash down the fatted calf."