“He certainly lied,” Ellery persisted. “Any man would lie to protect the woman he loves.”
“Never!” exploded Mrs. Lenox. “Frank, you would not lie for me!”
“Assuredly I would,” her husband answered quietly, “if you needed lying for.”
She looked at him with speechless dismay.
“Therefore,” Ellery went on, “it behooves a man to love a woman who demands truth and not untruth as her reasonable service. The responsibility rests with you women. You can not only make men lie, but you can make them believe that there is no such thing as truth in the universe. Isn’t it so, Lenox?”
Mr. Lenox smiled and nodded, Jove-like.
“Oh, yes, they pull some strings,” he said; “but don’t cocker them up too much. Don’t make them think we are nothing but clay in their hands.”
“You couldn’t, because, to our sorrow, we know better,” retorted his wife.
“Nevertheless, you’ve unsettled everything,” said Madeline dejectedly.
“But, Miss Elton,” Norris put in, “you must not think that I believe that a man is without responsibility for the kind of woman he loves. That is where the first turning up or down comes in. He’s no right to give his soul to the thing that is mean or base. He has the right to choose his road, but after he’s chosen, he has to travel wherever the road leads. Dick’s disintegration began from the moment that he met Miss Quincy. I’ve known it for a long time.”