Yet the dread of having to try the
feat himself made him admire the manner in which Carson tossed
about long creepy-sounding words, like a bush-ape playing with
scarlet spiders. He talked insultingly of Yeats and the
commutation of sex-energy and Isadora Duncan and the poetry of
Carson Haggerty.
Istra yawned openly on the bed, kicking a pillow, but she was
surprised into energetic discussion now and then, till Haggerty
intentionally called her Izzy again, when she sat up and
remarked to Mr. Wrenn: "Oh, don't go yet. You can tell me about
the article when Carson goes. Dear Carson said he was only
going to stay till ten."
Mr. Wrenn hadn't had any intention of going, so he merely smiled
and bobbed his head to the room in general, and stammered
"Y-yes," while he tried to remember what he had told her about
some article. Article. Perhaps it was a Souvenir Company
novelty article. Great idea! Perhaps she wanted to design a
motto for them. He decidedly hoped that he could fix it up for
her--he'd sure do his best.
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