fertility. "I mean, in
the evenings."

"Yes," said Gaga, dubiously. "I suppose you might." He was struck with a
rather superfine notion. "But you're not," he concluded. He enjoyed a
manifest triumph.

"No." Sally raised a declamatory finger. "But if I _was_, you wouldn't
know it."

They had reached an impassable spot in their talk. Sally had confounded
Gaga. Neither he nor she was quite as mentally alert as they had both
been when hungry; and the Chianti was beginning to make them drowsy and
rather slow-witted. But having embarked upon the question of possible
knowledge of character they could not, in consideration of their slight
heaviness, be expected to relinquish a topic so circular and so
suggestive of personal intimacy. As the wine acted more powerfully upon
them it was more and more to themselves that their thoughts and speeches
turned.

"I feel sometimes that I'm a great fool," confessed Gaga. "But I'm not
really a fool. I see a lot, and ... I don't seem able to act on it.
D'you understand what I mean?"

"Weak," Sally vouchsafed, wine-candid. Gaga glanced quickly at her.

"I don't think I'm weak. I...." His thoughts strayed. "See, I've never
had much of a chance to show what I can do. My mother's such a much
stronger character than I am."

Sally nodded, and sipped again at the thick glass from which she was
drinking.

"I'm strong," she said. "I'm hard ... tough. If I make up my _mind_...."

"Yes. I'm like that," insisted Gaga. It was so preposterous that Sally
could only look measuringly at him with a puzzled contempt that might
have been read.

"I'm stronger'n you are," she answered. "I'm small; but I don't mind
what I do. You're a _good_ boy. I'm not. I'm bad. I'm ... you don't know
what goes on in my head." Suddenly exasperated, she went on: "That's
what I meant. You think I'm just a quiet little thing. I'm not. You
don't know _what_ I think about. I want to do all sorts of things. I
want to be rich, and have a good time, and have lots of ... lots of
_power_. I want to get on. If anybody gets in my way I push 'em out of
it. If anybody gets in _your_ way you stand aside."

"I don't. I get my own way, but not by fighting," Gaga said.

"Oho! I don't fight," retorted Sally. "They're afraid to fight me."

Gaga smiled.

"They're afraid of hurting you," he suggested. "But I know just what you
mean." His confidence was unshakable.

"I kick 'em in the stomach," Sally asserted. "Anywhere."

"Yes.