He's bound, sooner or later, to
lose his grip on tangible things if he does. He's likely to start
destroying property to further the cause of labor, or liable to turn to
shooting men who were born to jobs I'm certain some of them never
wanted--kings and that sort, I mean--figuring on solving the social
problems of men and women who must solve that problem themselves.
Perfection is a fine thing to anticipate; expectations of it are
dangerous. And women aren't made that way."
"No?" her voice slid coolly upward.
"No," he told her, and smiled with that serenity she had come to know
so well. "Not even you, though I suppose I'd about annihilate anyone
else if he ever hinted at it." He chose to be didactic in tone. "No,
you're not perfect; you've too much intelligence for that. Why, right
now you're fighting with your brain against the dictates of your heart,
and if you were above mortal error in judgment you'd know that you are
wasting your time."
The girl forgot entirely that she, too, had promised herself that their
leave-taking should not cross the border of personalities. And with
that lazy joy of her on his tongue she might not have been quite so
quick to hold that she could love no man, had she stopped to give it
thought. Her advance to the skirmish was most spirited.
"Your opinion has the merit of sincerity," she said, "although, looking
back upon a--a certain day, I can't help but wonder whether you haven't
been guilty of mouthing pretty nothings for my poor ears.
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