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Many folks make what they
are pleased to call unconventionality a mere cloak for selfish
disregard of the feelings and tastes of others. Bohemianism too
often means piggish sloth or slatternly ineptitude.
Convention is solely a matter of manners. That is why I desire
to instil some convention into what, for want of a more accurate
term, I may allude to as Carlotta's mind. It will save me much
trouble in the future.
I summoned Carlotta.
"Carlotta," I said, "I am going to take you to Hyde Park and show
you the English aristocracy wearing their best clothes and their
best behaviour. You must do the same."
"My best clothes?" cried Carlotta, her face lighting up.
"Your very best. Make haste."
I smiled. She ran from the room and in an incredibly short time
reappeared unblushingly bare-necked and bare-armed in the evening
dress that had caused her such dismay on Saturday.
I jumped to my feet. There is no denying that she looked
amazingly beautiful. She looked, in fact, disconcertingly
beautiful.


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