"I'd rather you didn't make a joke about such things, Doris."
"I'm not joking. But to be a great leader a man must have only one love—the love of being a great leader."
"That's wrong," Basine blurted out. "A woman can help a man forward if he loves her and she's clever and loves him."
"She can't," Doris said softly. "Because she doesn't want to. If she loves him, she doesn't want him to be great. She may inspire him but just as soon as she sees his inspiration takes him away from her, she turns around and tries to ruin him. So she can have him to herself."
Basine listened impatiently. This was a child prattling. Doris was laughing. He looked at her questioningly. Her laughter continued and grew harsh.
"You fool," she sighed, controlling herself. "Oh you fool."
Basine shook his head. He was serious. There were hidden facts in his mind. He knew something about what a woman might do to help a man forward. These facts seemed to him allies—secret allies, as he contradicted his sister.
"I insist you're wrong," he said. He was determined to prove her wrong. But she went on, ignoring his intensity.
"Your wife is ideal, George. Colorless, stupid. Dead. Without desires or egoism. An ideal wife for a man of ambition. The kind that will let you alone."
"Nonsense. You're utterly wrong," he cried. He must prove to her how utterly wrong she was. There was Ruth.