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 studio, whither he had repaired for cocktails. Struck at once by her dazzling appearance, he asked her to dine with him. Now, aside from her ruling passion, Wintergreen observed one other rule of conduct: she never refused food in whatever form it was offered. She had, therefore, been lunching or dining with Paul ever since, and had even consented to motor with him. She still, however, preserved her virginity, in every literal, physiological sense.

For Paul, her innate stupidity was part of her charm. It seemed to him that he had never before encountered any one who was stupid on so magnificent a scale. Even Amy and Vera would have lost the silver cup in any competition with this damsel. Paul held a theory about his peculiar taste for this sort of thing. He believed that he preferred to know women like Campaspe—was there, however, another?—as friends, but for a comfortable life with a wife or a mistress he invariably picked a moron.

One evening, after they had been acquainted for about a week, Paul determined to persuade this pretty lass to put herself to a more practical use on his account. He began the attack by ordering cocktails, doubles, moreover.

Wintergreen stared at him, wide-eyed, when the waiter set the brimming glasses before them.

You know I never drink, she expostulated.

Just one, tonight, he pleaded.

You wouldn't ask me to do that if you really re-