“ ‘Both?’ ” she inquired. “What do you mean—‘both?’ ”
“I mean the man and the woman,” he said. “Do you think they both have to have——”
“What man and woman?”
“I mean,” said Renfrew, “I mean the husband and the wife.”
“Why, what in the world——”
“Would they both have to have one?” he asked hopefully. “They wouldn’t both have to have an intellectual nature, would they?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” she said with emphasis, though a delicate colour had risen in her cheeks, and people seldom blush on account of being puzzled. “I don’t believe you know what you mean, yourself.”
“Yes, I do,” he insisted, his earnestness constantly increasing. “I mean, for instance, wouldn’t it be all right for the woman to go on following her intellectual nature in her own way, if the man provided the house and the food and everything like that? Even if he didn’t have an intellectual nature himself, don’t you think they could get along together all right, especially if he respected hers and looked up to it and was glad she had one, and so—well, and so they could go on and on together—and on and on——”
“Renfrew!” she cried. “How long are you going ‘on and on’ about nothing?”
He looked depressed. “I only meant—did you—did you really mean everybody, Muriel?”