I was looking one up again the other day--that
day you threw the teapot in the sea." And she told him about the
"preliminary canter."
"Well, that's absolutely right," he said coolly. "Women are like that.
They're specialized for sex. Don't you admit that you've no brains?
You've told me so many a time, and your father always said you were an
idiot. And don't you admit that when I kiss you--especially here in the
tropics where everything is a bit accelerated--you feel different--all
wobbly--?"
She nodded, looking startled.
"Well, what does it mean? It simply means you're specialized. Yes you
are, Marcella. Specialized as a woman. All this--this liking to be
kissed, and feeling wobbly. They're Kraill's preliminary canter."
"Oh no--no!" she cried in horror.
"Oh, yes, yes!" he mocked, laughing at her gently.
"But Louis, how horrible!"
"Well, you're always preaching honesty and facing facts," he said
bluntly.
"Yes--" she said thoughtfully. "But--I don't like it. I hate it. I don't
believe Kraill thinks like that, really--I've read three of his courses
of lectures and in all of them he doesn't seem to approve of women being
like that. Just vehicles of existence or bundles of sensation. He seems,
to me, to resent women."
"Yes--after many love adventures," he began.
"But--don't you think all the time he was just getting his education?
Like I am? A month ago I'd have been horrified at the thought of kissing
you.
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