What you want to do, said Jimmy to Ciss, is to forget yourself. — So I can think of you all the time, I suppose, said Cecilia. — Well, not necessarily all the time. Now and then would do. But it’d do you a lot of good to forget yourself, persisted Jim. — I agree, snapped Cecilia. But why don’t you make me? Why don’t you give a girl a bit of a lift? You don’t exactly sweep me off my feet, or lift me clean out of myself, I must say! — Dash it all, a fellow might as well try to sweep the Albert Memorial off its feet. Seems to me you’re cemented in! cried the exasperated Jim. — In what? — Eh? — What am I cemented in? demanded Cecilia. — Oh, how should I know? In your own idea of yourself! cried he, desperately.
Silence! One of those fatal and Egyptian silences that can intervene between the fair sex and the unfair.
I should love to forget myself, if I were allowed, resumed Cecelia. — Who prevents you? — You do! — I wish I knew how. — You throw me back on myself every time. — Throw you back on yourself! cried the mortified Jim. Why, I’ve never seen you come an inch forward, away from yourself, yet. — I’m always coming forward to you, and you throw me back on myself, she declared. — Coming forward to me! he cried, in enraged astonishment. I wish you’d tell me when the move begins. — You wouldn’t see it, if I hooted like a bus. — I believe you, he groaned, giving up.
The gulf yawned between them. I, miserable ostrich, hid my head in the sands of the Times. The clock had the impertinence to tick extra cheerfully.
Don’t you think it’s a boy’s duty to make a girl forget herself? she asked of me, mercilessly. — If there’s a good band, said I. — Precisely! cried Jim. The minute the saxophone lets on, she’s as right as rain. — Of course! she said. Because then I don’t have to forget myself, I’m all there. — We looked at her in some astonishment, and Jim, being a cub, did the obvious. — Do you mean to say that the rest of the time you’re not all there? he asked, with flat-footed humour. — Witty boy! she said witheringly. No, naturally I leave my wits at home, when I go out with you. — Sounds like it! said Jim.
Now look here! said I. Do you mean to say you only feel quite yourself when you’re dancing? — Not always then, she retorted. — And never any other time? — Never! The word fell on top of us with a smack, and left us flat. Oh, go on! cried Jimmy. What abodt the other day at Cromer? — What about it? said she. — Ah! What were the wild waves saying! cried he knowingly. — You may ask me, she replied. They hummed and hawed, but they never got a word out, as far as I’m concerned. — Do you mean to say you weren’t happy! cried he, mortified. — I certainly never forgot myself, not for a moment, she replied. He made a gesture of despair.
But what do you mean? said I. Do you mean you were never all there, or that you were too much there? Which? She became suddenly attentive, and Jimmy looked at her mockingly, with a sort of got-her-on-toast look. — Why? she drawled languidly. I suppose when you can’t forget yourself, it’s because some of you’s left out, and you feel it. — So you are only painfully aware of yourself when you’re not altogether yourself — like a one-legged man trying to rub his missing toes, because they ache? said I. She pondered a moment. — I suppose that’s about the size of it, she admitted. — And nothing of you is left out in jazz? Jimmy demanded. — Not in good jazz, if the boy can dance, she replied. — Well, I think you’ll grant me that, said Jim. To which she did not reply.
So it takes a jazz band to get you all there? I asked. — Apparently, she replied. — Then why aren’t you content to be only half there, till the band toots up? — Oh, I am. It’s only friend James gets the wind up about the missing sections. — Hang it all! cried James — But I held up my hand like a high-church clergyman, and hushed him off. — Then why don’t you marry a boy who will prefer you only half there? I demanded of her. — What! marry one of those coat- hangers? You see me! she said, with cool contempt.
Then the point, said I, is that Jimmy leaves some of you out, and so he never sweeps you off your feet. And so you can’t forget yourself, because part of you isn’t embraced by Jimmy, and that part stands aside and gibbers. — Gibbers is the right word, like a lucky monkey! said Jim spitefully. — Better a whole monkey than half a man! said she. — So what’s to be done about it? said I. Why not think about it? Which bit of the woman does Jimmy leave out of his manly embrace? — Oh, about nine-tenths of her! said she. — Nine- tenths of her being too conceited for nuts! said Jimmy.
Look here! said I. This is vulgar altercation. — What do you expect, with a whipper-snapper like Jimmy? said she. — My stars! if that two-stepping Trissie says another word — ! cried Jim.
Peace! said I. And give the last word to me, for I am the latter- day Aristotle, who has more to say even than a woman. Next time, O James, when you have your arms, both of them, around Cecilia —
Which will be never! said Cecilia- — then, I continued, you must say to yourself, I have here but one-tenth of my dear Ciss, the remaining nine-tenths being mysteriously elsewhere. Yet this one-tenth is a pretty good armful, not to say handful, and will do me very nicely; so forward the light brigade! And you, Cecilia, under the same circumstance, will say to yourself: Alas so little of me is concerned, that why should I concern myself? Jimmy gets his tenth. Let’s see him make the most of it.