He gave her a grateful look.``I know it,'' said he.``The reason I confide things to you is because I know you're a real woman at bottom, Jane--the only real person I've ever happened across in our class.''
``It took more courage for you to do that sort of thing than it would for a woman,'' said Jane.``It's more natural, easier for a woman to stake everything in love.If she hasn't the man she wants she hasn't anything, while a man's wife can be a mere detail in his life.He can forget he's married, most of the time.''
``That isn't the way I intend to be married,'' said Davy.``Iwant a wife who'll be half, full half, of the whole.And I'll get her.''
``You mean you haven't given up?''
``Why should I? She doesn't love another man.So, there's hope.
Don't you think so?''
Jane was silent.She hastily debated whether it would be wiser to say yes or to say no.
``Don't you think so?'' repeated he.
``How can I tell?'' replied Jane, diplomatically.``I'd have to see her with you--see how she feels toward you.''
``I think she likes me,'' said Davy, ``likes me a good deal.''
Jane kept her smile from the surface.What a man always thought, no matter how plainly a woman showed that she detested him.``No doubt she does,'' said Jane.She had decided upon a course of action.``If I were you, Davy, I'd keep away from her for the present-- give her time to think it over, to see all the advantages.If a man forces himself on a queer, wild sort of girl such as Selma is, he's likely to drive her further away.''
Davy reflected.``Guess you're right,'' said he finally.``My instinct is always to act--to keep on acting until I get results.
But it's dangerous to do that with Selma.At least, I think so.
I don't know.I don't understand her.I've got nothing to offer her--nothing that she wants--as she frankly told me.Even if she loved me, I doubt if she'd marry me--on account of her sense of duty.What you said awhile ago-- about women never doing things from a sense of duty-- that shows how hard it is for a woman to understand what's perfectly simple to a man.Selma isn't the sheltered woman sort--the sort whose moral obligations are all looked after by the men of her family.The old-fashioned woman always belonged to some man-- or else was an outcast.This new style of woman looks at life as a man does.''
Jane listened with a somewhat cynical expression.No doubt, in theory, there was a new style of woman.But practically, the new style of woman merely TALKED differently; at least, she was still the old-fashioned woman, longing for dependence upon some man and indifferent to the obligations men made such a fuss about--probably not so sincerely as they fancied.But her expression changed when Davy went on to say:
``She'd look at a thing of that sort much as I-- or Victor Dorn would.''
Jane's heart suddenly sank.Because the unconscious blow had hurt she struck out, struck back with the first weapon she could lay hold of.``But you said a minute ago that Victor was a hypocritical demagogue.''
Davy flushed with confusion.He was in a franker mood now, however.``I'd like to think that,'' he replied.``But I don't honestly believe it.''
``You think that if Victor Dorn loved a woman of our class he'd put her out of his life?''
``That's hardly worth discussing,'' said Davy.``No woman of our class--no woman he'd be likely to look at--would encourage him to the point where he'd presume upon it.''
``How narrow you are!'' cried Jane, derisive but even more angry.
``It's different--entirely different--with a man, even in our class.But a woman of our class--she's a lady or she's nothing at all.And a lady couldn't be so lacking in refinement as to descend to a man socially beneath her.''
``I can see how ANY woman might fall in love with Victor Dorn.''
``You're just saying that to be argumentative,'' said Davy with conviction.``Take yourself, for example.''
``I confess I don't see any such contrast between Victor and you--except where the comparison's altogether in his favor,''
said Jane pleasantly.``You don't know as much as he does.You haven't the independence of character--or the courage--or the sincerity.You couldn't be a real leader, as he is.You have to depend on influence, and on trickery.''
A covert glance at the tall, solemn-looking young man riding silently beside her convinced her that he was as uncomfortable as she had hoped to make him.
``As for manners--and the things that go to make a gentleman,''
