“The truth may be a very bad truth,” she cried triumphantly. “It often is. You are a truth, but you may be very bad. You’ll notice I spare you, and don’t say you are.”
“Thanks. But my badness again is a point of view. Here, as I am, if I marry three wives, I’m very bad; if I’m a Mormon or a Turk, I may still be a good one.”
“We’re leaving the subject,” she said; “I began by saying it was an abominable sentiment. It is.”
“Reiteration isn’t argument,” he returned coolly.
“What authority has he for a statement of the sort?”
“Some writings are on conviction, not authority. This may be one; or it may be from experience.”
“Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest, et cetera,” she quoted. “How can that be experience? He hasn’t been to them.”
“Not the physical ones, if there are such, but mental ones possibly. Have you never touched a Gehenna or a Throne?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“You will some day,” he said; “every woman does, and unfortunately she usually drags a man or men along with her.”