That's a perfectly safe rule," she annotated along the margin of her story.

"I used to compliment an artist upon his art and an Apollo upon his beauty--but it never worked.

They always looked as if I had under-valued them, so now I industriously praise the folly of the wise and the wisdom of the fool." "And the decorative talent of Perry," laughed one of the callers.
"You needn't smile," commented Gerty, while Trent watched the little greenish flame dance in her eyes, "it isn't funny--it's philosophy.

I made it out of life." "But what about the terra-cotta ?" enquired Susie.
"Oh, as I've said, I did nothing reckless," resumed Gerty, relaxing among her cushions, "I neither slapped his face nor went into hysterics--these tactics, I've found, never work unless one happens to be a prima donna--so I complimented him upon his consideration and sat down and waited.

That night he went to a club dinner--after the beautiful surprise he'd given me he felt that he deserved a little freedom--and the door had no sooner closed upon him than I paid the butler to come in and smoke the walls.