Zelda did not suggest the woe of the world.  Neither did she suggest the dreams of the world.

It was early in the afternoon and the Major and Katie were having a conference.  He was acquainted with the palate of the visiting staff officer, and was assuring Katie that she was on the way to his good graces.

They had gone into the library, where Katie was arranging flowers.  He offered a suggestion there, too.  He had an intuitive knowledge of such things, seemed to be guided by inner promptings as to which bowl should hold the lavender sweet peas and which the pink ones.

Though Katie disputed his judgment, glad to be on ground where she could dispute with assurance.  They argued it hotly, as if sweet peas were the most vital things in the world.  It was good to be venting all one’s feeling on things so tangible and knowable as sweet peas.

Her dinner safe in the hands of experts, Katie made herself comfortable and told her friend the Major that she wished now to be put in a brilliant mood.  That a brilliant mood was the one thing the skilled laborers in possession of her house could not furnish.

He gallantly defied any laborer in the world to be so skilled as to get Katie out of a brilliant mood.

She told him that was silly, that she had grown very stupid.

He challenged her to prove it.

Katie felt very much at home with him; not merely at home with him the individual, but comfortably at home with the things he represented.  It gave her a nice homelike feeling to be flirting with him.

And flirting with him herself, she grew interested in all those others who had flirted with him—­she knew they were legion.  She seemed to see them off there in the background—­a lovely group of spoiled darlings.  She did not suppose many of them were much the worse for having flirted with Major Darrett.  Suddenly she laughed and told him she regarded him as one of the great educators of the age.  He wanted to know in what way he was a great educator.  Katie would not tell him.  There ensued a gay discussion from which she emerged feeling as if she had had a cocktail.

And looking that way; looking, at least so he seemed to think, from the manner in which he leaned forward regarding her—­most attractive, her cheeks so pink, her eyes dancing a little dance of defiance at him, and on her lips a mocking little smile, more sophisticated than any smile he had ever seen before on Katie’s lips.  “Katie of the laughing eyes”—­he had once called her.  She was leaning back lazily, a suggestion of insolence in her assurance.  As she leaned back that way he marked the lines of her figure as he had never marked them before.  He had previously thought of Katie as a good build for golf.  Now that did not seem to express the whole of it—­and Katie seemed to know it would not express the whole of it.  And in summarizing Katie as having a good build for golf he had not properly appraised Katie’s foot.  It was thrust out now from her very short skirt as if Katie were quite willing he should know it for a lovely foot.  And her arm, which was hanging down from the side of the chair, seemed conscious of being something more than a good arm for golf.