I could not see
her face, but I knew there was the look upon it that made Primgate
want to paint her as Joan of Arc; only it would never stop long
enough. "I'd love him for talking like that. And I'd respect him.
If he was that sort of man I'd pray God to help me to be the sort of
woman he wanted me to be. I'd try. I'd try all day long. I would!"
"I wonder," I said. Robina had surprised me. I admit it. I thought
I knew the sex better.
"Any girl would," said Robina. "He'd be worth it."
"It would be a new idea," I mused. "Gott im Himmel! what a new world
might it not create!" The fancy began to take hold of me. "Love no
longer blind. Love refusing any more to be the poor blind fool--
sport of gods and men. Love no longer passion's slave. His bonds
broken, the senseless bandage flung aside. Love helping life instead
of muddling it. Marriage, the foundation of civilisation, no longer
reared upon the sands of lies and illusions, but grappled to the rock
of truth--reality. Have you ever read 'Tom Jones?'" I said.
"No," answered Robina; "I've always heard it wasn't a nice book."
"It isn't," I said. "Man isn't a nice animal, not all of him. Nor
woman either. There's a deal of the beast in man. What can you
expect? Till a few paltry thousands of years ago he WAS a beast,
fighting with other beasts, his fellow denizens of the woods and
caves; watching for his prey, crouched in the long grass of the
river's bank, tearing it with claws and teeth, growling as he ate.
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