"Well, I really do think you're rather lucky, you know." "Of course. But it's all written in the book of Fate. Listen. I've got a mulberry mark on my arm; I live at Mulberry Cottage; and Morera, that's the name of my fairy godfather, is Spanish for mulberry-tree. Can you beat it?" "I hope you've invested this money," said Airdale. "It's in a bank." He begged her to be careful of her riches, and she rallied him on his inconsistency, because a moment back he had been telling her that their possession was hindering her progress in art. "My dear Sylvia, I haven't known you for five years not to have discovered that I might as well advise a schoolmaster as you, but what _are_ you going to do?" "Plans for this summer? A little gentle reading. A little browsing among the classics. A little theater-going. A little lunching at Verrey's with Mr. John Airdale. Resting address, six Rosetree Terrace, Richmond, Surrey. A little bumming around town, as Señor Morera would say. Plans for the autumn? A visit to the island of Sirene, if I can find a nice lady-like young woman to accompany me. Mrs. Gainsborough has decided that she will travel no more. Her brain is bursting with unrelated adventure." "But you can't go on from month to month like that." "Well, if you'll tell me how to skip over December, January, and August I'll be grateful," Sylvia laughed. "No, don't rag about. I mean for the future in general," he explained. "Are you going to get married? You can't go on forever like this." "Why not?" "Well, you're young now. But what's more gloomy than a restless old maid?" "My dear man, don't you fret about my withering. I've got a little crystal flask of the finest undiluted strychnine. I believe strychnine quickens the action of the heart. Verdict. Death from attempted galvanization of the cardiac muscles. No flowers by request. Boomph! as Mrs. Gainsborough would say. Ring off. The last time I wrote myself an epitaph it led me into matrimony. _Absit omen_." Airdale was distressed by Sylvia's joking about her death, and begged her to stop. "Then don't ask me any more about the future in general. And now let's go and be Epicurean at Verrey's."