"Miss Burton," said Stanton, joining her at the foot of the stairs,
"I perceive, even from your manner of descending to our lower world,
that you are destined to vanquish the dullness of this rainy day.
Don't you wish an ally?"
"Would you be an ally, Mr. Stanton, if you saw I was destined to
be vanquished?"
"Of course I would."
"Look in the parlor then. There are at least a dozen ladies
already vanquished. They are oppressed by the foul-fiend, 'ennui.'
Transfer your chivalric offer to them and deliver them."
"Stanton," laughed Van Berg, "you are in honor bound to devote
yourself to those oppressed ladies."
"The prospect is so dark and depressing that I shall at least cheer
myself first with the light of a cigar."
"And so your chivalry will end in smoke," she said.
"Yes, Miss Burton, the smoke of battle, where you are concerned."
"I fear your wit is readier than your sword. The soldier that
boasts how he would overwhelm some other foe than the one before
him loses credit to the degree that he protests."
"You are more exacting, Miss Burton, than the lady who threw her
glove down among the lions. What chance would Hercules himself
have of lifting those twelve heavy females out of the dumps?"
"It's not what we do, but what we attempt, that shows our spirit.
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