["There are so many things I want to talk to you about." Abelard probably said to Heloïse, "but how can I when I can only think about kissing you?" --KATHARINE LANE in the Evening Mail.] Said Abelard to Heloïse: "Your tresses blowing in the breeze Enchant my soul; your cheek allures; I never knew such lips as yours." Said Heloïse to Abelard: "I know that it is cruel, hard, To make you fold your yearning arms And think of things besides my charms." Said Abelard to Heloïse: "Pray, lets discuss the Portuguese; Their status in the League of Nations. . . . . Come, slip me seven osculations. "The Fourteen Points," said Heloïse, "Are pure Woodrovian fallacies." Said Abelard: "Ten times fourteen The points you have, O beaucoup queen!" "Lay off," said Heloïse, "all that stuff. I've heard the same old thing enough." "But," answered Abelard, "your lips Put all my thoughts into eclipse." "O Abelard," said Heloïse, "Don't take so many liberties." "I do it but to show regard." And Heloïse told her chum that night That Abelard was Awful Bright; And--thus is drawn the cosmic plan-- She loved an Intellectual Man.