Psychoanalysis was their washpot, and over the fourth dimension did they
cast their shoes.
Their afternoon digest was held at Faith Loveman's and Warble went.
The Loveman home was an abstract bungalow, which showed rather plainly the
iron hand in the velvet glove influence of the Japanese.
The large light hall had a built-in abstract table, and on this was an
enormous bronze plaque which held a thin layer of water on which rested
one pansy.
Faith's devotion to the Doctrine of Elimination allowed nothing else in
the hall, but in the living room there were three whole pieces of
furniture besides, of course, the caterer's gilt chairs brought in to hold
the restless sex as they tried to rest from their restlessness.
Faith Loveman looked curiously at Warble.
"You can't be very restless," she observed, "you'd be thinner."
Warble smiled engagingly.
"I do want to be thinner," she conciliated, "how can I?"
And, somehow, that started them all off. They restlessly gave advice,
recommended certain exercises, uncertain drugs and most unattractive
diets.
They told their own experiences, extolled or berated their masseuses,
scribbled addresses of corsetieres for one another, and in their interest
and restless excitement they forgot all about Warble and she wanted to go
home.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69