contrary. He did, in a mannerly way, several things banned by the book of etiquette."
"Isn't that the same?"
"From the woman's viewpoint."
"Don't you ever get tired finding imaginary inferiorities in women?"
"Did I say it was inferior? It isn't. More realistic, in fact. Don't you, on the other hand, prefer to be appreciated for differences--rather than to worry over the need of proving identities?"
"Modern Woman--the Lost Sex. You got it out of the book."
"It's a pretty good book."
Yvonne watched the waiter exchange a filled glass for the empty one. She seemed to want to defer talking while she caught up with something in her mind. She sipped, and stared at the people eating dinner in the azure haze the place calls light, and sipped again.
She had a good-sized mouth with a pretty shape: the lipstick went where the lips were, and nowhere else.
"I wanted to talk to you. I was ready to pester you. That's why I moved next door.
I was going to let you find it out when we came back this evening. I was going to ask you in. I'm not afraid of you."
"Smallest achievement in the history of courage."
"I want to figure out what to do about Rol. You see--I'm still crazy about him."
"Send him to a good psychiatrist."
She exhaled with gentle violence. "Try it!"
"You said he was very upset--promised you anything.
That was your chance to make him promise psychiatry. You seem to have read books about it--"
She shook her head. "Not many, really. You don't understand. Rol wasn't in the least bit upset because of what he'd done. He was upset about my attitude over it. He said it was a 'trivial incident'--and told me he loved me--and said I was frigid and what did I expect. He said he didn't consider he'd been unfaithful to me--and talked on and on about being 'human.' Imagine!"
"Are you?"
The blush came again. She spoke in a low voice, "Mostly."
"People," I said, "don't want to know about people, nowadays."
"Did they ever?"
"Here and there--by fits and starts. They had a short spell of wanting to find out about themselves through reason--a couple of centuries ago. Innumerable spells of trying to figure themselves out through religions."
"But not now?" She was sarcastic. "Nobody knows anything now?"
"The average college graduate doesn't even know where he is in relation to other objects. Couldn't point to the ecliptic. Or explain the changing seasons. Couldn't point toward the sun, at night. Friends of mine, well-known writers, belong to a society that believes the earth is flat. There's another buddyship of boobs who think the earth is hollow and we live inside. Till the government began financing research for war, America spent twice as much on astrology as on scientific investigation. The folks would rather, by twice, be fooled than find out the truth."
"We've made a lot of progress."
"Individuals have learned a lot. The people ignore it. They are interested in the applications of science--appalled by the implications. Our civilization is just one more swarm of low cheats. It won't last because cheats can't. Only inertia sustains the current shape of it, and that momentum is encountering more friction every day. A republic of crooked dumbbells can't safely use the instruments of clever men. People not only don't know how to behave, they don't even know they are ignorant. Yet in the main, people are thoroughly satisfied with themselves. In view of sure catastrophes I that loom on every margin toward which they hurry--the very self-satisfaction of people is the statistical guarantor of their doom. Hence that crack about pride going before a fall."
"I think people behave rather well, on the whole."
"Sure. They'll even be decent about doomsday. Blame somebody else as they perish, like flies, but perish heroically. A pity."
"You can't depress me!"
I laughed. "Bear in mind that you brought up that word 'depress.' I'm not depressed. I've had to learn how to get along in the certainty that all I
"Isn't that the same?"
"From the woman's viewpoint."
"Don't you ever get tired finding imaginary inferiorities in women?"
"Did I say it was inferior? It isn't. More realistic, in fact. Don't you, on the other hand, prefer to be appreciated for differences--rather than to worry over the need of proving identities?"
"Modern Woman--the Lost Sex. You got it out of the book."
"It's a pretty good book."
Yvonne watched the waiter exchange a filled glass for the empty one. She seemed to want to defer talking while she caught up with something in her mind. She sipped, and stared at the people eating dinner in the azure haze the place calls light, and sipped again.
She had a good-sized mouth with a pretty shape: the lipstick went where the lips were, and nowhere else.
"I wanted to talk to you. I was ready to pester you. That's why I moved next door.
I was going to let you find it out when we came back this evening. I was going to ask you in. I'm not afraid of you."
"Smallest achievement in the history of courage."
"I want to figure out what to do about Rol. You see--I'm still crazy about him."
"Send him to a good psychiatrist."
She exhaled with gentle violence. "Try it!"
"You said he was very upset--promised you anything.
That was your chance to make him promise psychiatry. You seem to have read books about it--"
She shook her head. "Not many, really. You don't understand. Rol wasn't in the least bit upset because of what he'd done. He was upset about my attitude over it. He said it was a 'trivial incident'--and told me he loved me--and said I was frigid and what did I expect. He said he didn't consider he'd been unfaithful to me--and talked on and on about being 'human.' Imagine!"
"Are you?"
The blush came again. She spoke in a low voice, "Mostly."
"People," I said, "don't want to know about people, nowadays."
"Did they ever?"
"Here and there--by fits and starts. They had a short spell of wanting to find out about themselves through reason--a couple of centuries ago. Innumerable spells of trying to figure themselves out through religions."
"But not now?" She was sarcastic. "Nobody knows anything now?"
"The average college graduate doesn't even know where he is in relation to other objects. Couldn't point to the ecliptic. Or explain the changing seasons. Couldn't point toward the sun, at night. Friends of mine, well-known writers, belong to a society that believes the earth is flat. There's another buddyship of boobs who think the earth is hollow and we live inside. Till the government began financing research for war, America spent twice as much on astrology as on scientific investigation. The folks would rather, by twice, be fooled than find out the truth."
"We've made a lot of progress."
"Individuals have learned a lot. The people ignore it. They are interested in the applications of science--appalled by the implications. Our civilization is just one more swarm of low cheats. It won't last because cheats can't. Only inertia sustains the current shape of it, and that momentum is encountering more friction every day. A republic of crooked dumbbells can't safely use the instruments of clever men. People not only don't know how to behave, they don't even know they are ignorant. Yet in the main, people are thoroughly satisfied with themselves. In view of sure catastrophes I that loom on every margin toward which they hurry--the very self-satisfaction of people is the statistical guarantor of their doom. Hence that crack about pride going before a fall."
"I think people behave rather well, on the whole."
"Sure. They'll even be decent about doomsday. Blame somebody else as they perish, like flies, but perish heroically. A pity."
"You can't depress me!"
I laughed. "Bear in mind that you brought up that word 'depress.' I'm not depressed. I've had to learn how to get along in the certainty that all I
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