room. I love it. I've never had one of my very own before."

"It's very pretty."

Selwyn took his seat without looking around. He did not know whether
it was pretty or not. He was not at all interested in the room.

For a moment he looked at me with eyes narrowed and his forehead
ridged in tiny, perpendicular folds. Presently he leaned forward,
his hands between his knees and fingers interlocked.

"How long do you propose to stay down here?" he asked.

"I really do not know. I thought you were going to congratulate me
upon living the life I want to live."

"I do. Until you get this thing out of your system--"

"What thing?" I, too, leaned forward. The tone of his voice made
something in me flare. "What thing?" I repeated.

Selwyn's shoulders shrugged slightly. He sat up, then leaned back,
his hands in his pockets. "Why discuss it? You've long wanted to do
something of this sort. Until it was done you would never be
content. What you want to do, I doubt if you know yourself. Are you
slumming? Uplifting?"

"I am not. I'm neither a slummer nor an uplifter. A slummer helps.
I'm just looking on." I threw the cushion behind me to the other end
of the sofa. "I thought it might be interesting to see for myself