The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark Page B

intellectuals, as one could see from the variety of dyspepsia remedies on the bathroom shelf. He said he would point them out to her on the way downstairs when they rejoined the party. By no means, said Nicholas, did the hosts expect to meet their guests at this party. "Tell me about Selina," said Nicholas.
        Jane's dark hair was piled on top of her head. She had a large face. The only attractive thing about her was her youth and those mental areas of inexperience she was not yet conscious of. She had forgotten for the time being that her job was to reduce Nicholas's literary morale as far as possible, and was treacherously behaving as if he were the genius that, before the week was out, he claimed to be in the letter he got her to forge for him in Charles Morgan's name. Nicholas had decided to do everything nice for Jane, except sleep with her, in the interests of two projects: the publication of his book and his infiltration of the May of Teck Club in general and Selina in particular. "Tell me more about Selina." Jane did not then, or at any time, realise that he had received from his first visit to the May of Teck Club a poetic image that teased his mind and pestered him for details as he now pestered Jane. She knew nothing of his boredom and social discontent. She did not see the May of Teck Club as a microcosmic ideal society; far from it. The beautiful heedless poverty of a Golden Age did not come into the shilling-meter life which any sane girl would regard only as a temporary one until better opportunities occurred.
     
              _A damsel with a dulcimer__
              _In a vision once I saw:__
              _It was an Abyssinian maid,__
     
        The voice had wafted with the night breeze into the drawing room. Nicholas said, now, "Tell me about the elocution teacher."
        "Oh, Joanna—you must meet her."
        "Tell me about the borrowing and lending of clothes."
        Jane pondered as to what she could barter for this information which he seemed to want. The party downstairs was going on without them. The bare boards under her feet and the patchy walls seemed to hold out no promise of becoming memorable by tomorrow. She said, "We've got to discuss your book sometime. George and I've got a list of queries."
        Nicholas lolled on the unmade bed and casually thought he would probably have to plan some defence measures with George. His jam-jar was empty. He said, "Tell me more about Selina. What does she do apart from being secretary to a pansy?"
        Jane was not sure how drunk she was, and could not bring herself to stand up, this being the test. She said, "Come to lunch on Sunday." Sunday lunch for a guest was two-and-sixpence extra; she felt she might be taken to more of these parties by Nicholas, among the inner circle of the poets of today; but she supposed he wanted to take Selina out, and that was that; she thought he would probably want to sleep with Selina, and as Selina had slept with two men already, Jane did not envisage any obstacle. It made her sad to think, as she did, that the whole rigmarole of his interest in the May of Teck Club, and the point of their sitting in this bleak room, was his desire to sleep with Selina. She said, "What bits would you say were the most important?"
        "What bits?"
        "Your book," she said. "_The Sabbath Notebooks__. George is looking for a genius. It must be you."
        "It's all important." He formed the plan immediately of forging a letter from someone crudely famous to say it was a work of genius. Not that he believed it to be so one way or the other, the idea of such an unspecific attribute as genius not being one on which his mind was accustomed to waste its time. However, he knew a useful word when he saw it, and, perceiving the trend of Jane's question, made his plan. He said, "Tell me again that delightful thing Selina repeats about poise."
        "Poise is perfect balance, an equanimity