'You will become,' I pursued, idly drawing patterns with my finger on the sun-dial, 'wrinkled, rough, fat—and, perhaps, good.'
'You're very disagreeable to-day,' said Dolly.
She rose and stood by me.
'What do the mottoes mean?' she asked.
There were two: I will not say they contradicted one another, but they looked at life from different points of view.
'Pereunt et imputantur,' I read.
'Well, what's that, Mr. Carter?'
'A trite, but offensive, assertion,' said I, lighting a cigarette.
'But what does it mean?' she asked, a pucker on her forehead.
'What does it matter?' said I. 'Let's try the other.'
'The other is longer.'
'And better. Horas non numero nisi serenas.'
'And what's that?'
I translated literally. Dolly clapped her hands, and her face gleamed with smiles.
'I like that one!' she cried.
'Stop!' said I imperatively. 'You'll set it moving!'
'It's very sensible,' said she.
'More freely rendered, it means "I live only when you"'
'By Jove!' remarked Archie, coming up behind us, pipe in mouth, 'there was a lot of rain last night. I've just measured it in the gauge.'
