Not even did she lighten when I said to her mother, in open
mockery of that reserve, "Well, she cost you a lot of furniture that was
really most companionable about the house," and paused with a sigh
betokening a regretful comparison of values. That lance shattered
against her Lansdale shield like all the others.
Ending my call, I felt vividly what I have elsewhere seen described as
"the cosmic chill". The small, mighty, night-eyed, well-completed Miss
Lansdale, with the voice of a golden jangle, had frozen it about me in
lavish abundance.
I went home to play the game, until my eyes tired so that the face of
king, queen, and knave leered at me in defeat or simpered sickeningly
when I was able to shape their destinies. Thrice I lost interestingly
and with profit to my soul, and once I won, though without elation, for
we know that little skill may be needed to win when the cards fall
right; whereas, to lose profitably is a mark of supreme merit.
Even after that I must have recourse to the wonted philter to bring
sleep, the face of my vision being unaccountably the face of the true
Little Miss before she had evolved into Miss Lansdale of the threatening
self-possession.
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