being done and thought,
and the new books and all that," he surmised.

"I beg your pardon; what was that about poetry and books?"

"Girls like you--society girls, I mean--read everything there is, don't
they?"

"Where do you get that extraordinary idea?"

"Why, from knowing you."

"My poor, innocent Ban! If you were to try and talk books and poetry,
'Shakespeare and the musical glasses,' to the average society girl, as
you call her, what do you suppose would happen?"

"Why, I suppose I'd give myself away as an ignoramus."

"Heaven save you for a woolly lambkin! The girl would flee, shrieking,
and issue a warning against you as a high-brow, a prig, and a hopeless
bore. They don't read books, except a few chocolate-cream novels. They
haven't the time."

"But you--"

"Oh, I'm a freak! I get away with it because I'm passably good-looking
and know how to dress, and do what I please by the divine right
of--well, of just doing it. But, even so, a lot of the men are rather
afraid of me in their hearts. They suspect the bluestocking. Let 'em
suspect! The market is plenty good enough," declared Io flippantly.

"Then you just took up books as a sort of freak; a side issue?" The
disappointment in his face was almost ludicrous.

"No." A quiet gravity altered her expression. "I'll tell you about me,
if you want to hear. My mother was the daughter of a famous classical
scholar, who was opposed to her marriage because Father has always been
a man of affairs. From the first, Mother brought me up to love books and
music and pictures. She died when I was twelve, and poor Father, who
worshiped her, wanted to carry out her plans for me, though he had no
special sympathy with them. To make things worse for him, nobody but
Mother ever had any control over me; I was spoiled and self-willed and
precocious, and I thought the world owed me a good time. Dad's business
judgment of human nature saved the situation, he thoroughly understood
one thing about me, that I'd keep a bargain if I made it. So we fixed up
our little contract; I was to go through college and do my best, and
after I graduated, I was to have a free hand and an income of my own, a
nice one. I did the college trick. I did it well. I was third in my
class, and there wasn't a thing in literature or languages that they
could stop me from getting. At eighteen they turned me loose on the
world, and here I am, tired of it, but still loving it. That's all of
me. Aren't I a g