There is a glut in the soul-market and they
only fetch the price of old bones."
"He is talking foolish things that I do not understand," said
Carlotta, putting her hand on my arm.
"It is called sham cynicism, my dear," said I, "and we all ought
to be ashamed of ourselves."
"What do you like best to talk about?" Judith asked sweetly.
"Myself. And so does everybody," replied Carlotta.
We laughed, and for a time talk ceased to be allusive. But
later, over our coffee, while the band was playing loudly some
new American march, and Carlotta and Pasquale were laughing
together, Judith drew near me.
"You did not answer my question about those two, Marcus."
My fingers trembled as I lit a fresh cigarette.
"He is not a man to whom any woman's destiny should be
entrusted."
"And is she a woman on whom a man should stake his life's
happiness?"
"God knows," said I, setting my teeth.
It was not an enjoyable dinner-party. I longed for the evening
to be over, to have Carlotta safe back with me at home.
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