THE SENSE OF THE PAST
as good to make it here on the spot as to go thousands of miles on as great a fool's errand. I want in short to be an American as other people are—well, whatever they are."
Ralph turned it all over. "Yes, it's the new cry, and what can be more interesting than to hear it sounded more or less in French? It's recommended—for the 'upper classes,' and perhaps even beginning a little to be tried by them. It wouldn't take much," he continued, "to make me say that the day only could inevitably come when it would be for its little hour the new pose."
"I dare say indeed it wouldn't take much to make you say it," she returned; "and I've also seen the moment coming at which—for the moment—you inevitably would. But I dare say you hold that the hour you speak of will pass: all the more reason therefore that I should make the most of it while it lasts. It may be only a dream, but the thing is—while one can—to keep dreaming."
He looked at her in silence longer than he had done yet. "What it comes to then is that you'll never dream of me."
"By no means; because it's just in dreams———!" But she pulled herself up. "I mean that their strangeness is their law. They, when they're happy, arrange everything to perfection. With you or without you at any rate," she pursued, "mine will go on. They'll be as fantastic as you please—that is as much about the poor product."
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