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_Title:_ A Platonic Experiment
_Date of first publication:_ 1904
_Author:_ L. M. (Lucy Maud) Montgomery (1874-1942)
_Date first posted:_ May 25, 2017
_Date last updated:_ May 25, 2017
Faded Page eBook #20170548
This ebook was produced by: Alex White & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net
A Platonic Experiment
L. M. Montgomery
First published _The Housewife_, February 1904.
“Between a man and a woman of anything like equal age and ordinary
attractiveness a Platonic friendship is impossible—thanks to the laws
of Nature.”
Dr. Dallas, having made this statement, looked around the table with a
tentative ruffling of his plumage, as if he challenged anyone to an
argument on the subject.
The majority of the boarders did not notice his remark. They were all
hungry and indifferent to Mr. Dallas’ opinions. He was not popular among
them, being a middle-aged man with a cynical turn and pessimistic views
of life. Two faces, however, were turned protestingly towards
him—Howard Elliott’s, whose previous mention of Platonic friendship had
evoked Dallas’ remark, and a girl’s, who sat opposite Elliott, and
flashed a scornful look at Dallas out of her brilliant hazel eyes.
“You don’t agree with me, Miss Chester,” he remarked affably.
“No.”
The monosyllable was defiant. Dallas laughed provokingly and shrugged
his shoulders.
“And you?” he asked, turning to Howard Elliott.
“I certainly disagree,” returned the young man warmly. “I do believe in
Platonic friendship. Why should it not be possible? I am tired of this
outworn idea that a perfect friendship, untinged by love, is impossible
between a man and a woman. It is sheer nonsense.”
“Have you ever proved it to be sheer nonsense?” asked Dallas
imperturbably.
“I have. I have one woman friend at least for whom I have the most
sincere and friendly affection. There is not a shadow of sentiment in
our relations with each other. And I know many other instances.”
“Is the lady in question young—and pretty?” questioned Dallas,
prudently avoiding the vagueness of the “other instances.”
Howard Elliott flushed impatiently.
“She is not very old,” he answered hesitatingly, “and—I have never
thought about her looks.”
Dallas laughed aggravatingly.
“I thought as much. Don’t look so savage, my young friend. By the time
you have reached my age you will have proved the truth of the trite
proverb that things are not what they seem. I grant that under some
circumstances, such as yours, a true and sincere friendship is possible
between a man and a woman. Please remember the limitations of my first
remark. I have been a participant in some of your so-called ‘Platonics’
in my day, too. They invariably led to something else. This is simply in
the nature of things, and you couldn’t change it if you tried. In most
instances the culmination of a Platonic friendship is marriage—or
divorce. Miss Chester, there is a very decided tilt to that chin of
yours which leads me to infer that my eloquence has not convinced you.”
“It has not, indeed,” said Madge Chester. “There is such a thing as
Platonic friendship that does not end in love.”
“Have you ever proved it personally?”
“No-o. But I believe in it thoroughly.”
“Illogical, very. I dare say you do believe in all that pretty nonsense;
it is pretty. I believed in it once myself. But time will teach you
better.”
Madge Chester and Howard Elliott exchanged glances of baffled protest
against his calmly assertive tone. The latter looked across the table at
his _vis-a-vis_ with new interest. He seldom felt interested in girls,
he was too busy for that, he thought. He was a journalist by profession,
and his belief in Platonics amounted to a fad. He had written a series
of articles on the subject two years before which had attracted some
attention, and had thoroughly convinced himself if no one else.
But he did feel a certain interest in Madge Chester, born, doubtless, of
their mutual theory. After tea he followed her out to the garden and sat
down by her under the maples.
“Do you like Mr. Dallas?” he asked.
“I detest him,” answered Madge, calmly. “He seems to assume that he must
be right about everything and everyone else in the wrong. And it is so
impossible to argue with him; he puts you down some way, and then looks
around with that maddening smile of his, as much as to say, ‘Has any
other person anything to say on this subject before I close it? If so,
let him speak now or forever after hold his peace.’”
Elliott smiled.
“There is a great deal of latent antagonism towards Mr. Dallas in me,”
he said. “I hope he has not converted you to his heretical doctrines.”
“Regarding Platonic friendship? No, indeed. I should dearly like to
prove him in the wrong for once.”
“Let us do it.”
“How can we?”
“Let us be friends,” said Elliott calmly. “Let us have the courage of
our convictions and squelch Dallas effectually.”
Madge Chester tapped her round chin reflectively with the tips of her
slender fingers.
“It’s not a bad idea—if it is practicable. But I’m not sure of its
success.”
“Don’t you thoroughly believe in your own theories, then?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” cried Madge blushing scarlet. “What I meant
was could we be real friends? We may not like each other well enough on
closer acquaintance and friendship wouldn’t be possible if we didn’t.”
“No; but, I think we will. At least, there is no harm in trying. Will
you?”
Madge Chester never took long to make up her mind.
“I will,” she answered frankly, holding out her hand. They shook hands
gravely.
“Thus is our compact signed and sealed,” said Elliott. “We are to be
firm friends without a shadow of sentiment or romantic nonsense about
our friendship.”
“For the noble motive of ultimately discomfiting Mr. Dallas.”
“Well, we ought to find a pleasure in it, too. Of course Dallas is a
motive.”
“It is delightful to think of putting him down for once,” said Madge
vindictively. “It will be a great satisfaction.”
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