So for the first time they entered into a conversation. Lilly quailed. She feared she might not acquit herself creditably. "I am surprised," he said. "You've been going about with this loud crew for over a year, and I don't read the slang in your eyes yet." "Slang in my eyes? What do you mean by slang in a person's eyes?" "Do me the favour to regard the women here." He pointed furtively at Mrs. Jula, Mrs. Welter, Karla, and a few others. "Look at the way they roll their eyes and exchange glances. It's the lingo of a--well, I won't say vice--I despise words without nuance--I'll say of a thievish fancy. Do you understand?" "I think so," faltered Lilly. "But you still have some of the childlike expression you had when you made your début. Not altogether. A fleck of disdain is in your eyes. Disdain is not the right word. At the edge of deserts there are certain salt seas--dark green and empty. Do you catch the idea? Because the ground is poisonous." "Possibly," said Lilly, constrained. "Nevertheless, it's wonderful. Your soul's like a filter. It assimilates nothing but what it wants to. Or have you a secret store to draw on, which gives you the right to mock at us--some constant ideal--some goal in the hazy distance--some great song--a Song of Songs?" Lilly started up with a faint outcry, but not so faint as to fail to attract general attention. "I merely stepped on her foot," Dr. Salmoni explained, "and she is still innocent enough _not_ to consider it unintentional." All laughed. "A joke exactly suited to their understanding," he whispered, bending toward her shoulder. "I'll pretend not to have heard your involuntary avowal. That alone has value in my estimation which is voluntary. And I will not ask you as I did a year ago: 'What is thy quest here, lovely lady?' I will ask you: 'What hast thou to lose here?' I myself will furnish the answer. Your style--you have your style to lose. You are on the point of becoming styleless; which is always a misfortune and a crime. To me style is virtue, greatness, genuineness, force, religion, a God-ordained quality--all in one and a few things more. Remain bodily and spiritually intangible. Rise to a healthy, gladsome vice--_tant mieux_. Dress your hair for evening prayers, or let it flow over the pillow like a bacchante--but decide which." "I believe a moment ago you were pleading for nuance," said Lilly, the edge of whose wit was sharpened by his, "and now you're advocating a dogma." "Hear, hear!" he praised her. "Excellent. But no. I'm not preaching a dogma. I'm preaching the exercise of one's will, the will to personality. Do you understand? The result will be rich enough in nuances. Undoubtedly you have the material in you for a _grande amoureuse_, but alas not the courage." "Well, then, not the material," she flashed back happily. He laughed like a child.