“Well,” he said sharply, “let me warn and advise you: don’t join the ranks of the muck-rakers, as most ambitious reformers with messages do. We’ve plenty of ’em now. I can tear down as easily as you or anybody else. But to build something better is entirely another matter.”
“But, Mr. Ames, I’ve got something better!”
“Yes?” His tone spoke incredulous irony. “Well, what is it, if I may ask?”
“Love.”
“Love, eh? Well, perhaps that’s so,” he said, bending toward her and again attempting to take her hand.
“I guess,” she said, drawing back quickly, “you don’t know what love is, do you?”
“No,” he whispered softly. “I don’t really believe I do. Will you teach me?”
“Of course I will,” she said brightly. “But you’ll have to live it. And you’ll have to do just as I tell you,” holding up an admonitory finger.
“I’m yours to command, little woman,” he returned in mock seriousness.
“Well,” she began very softly, “you must first learn that love is just as much a principle as the Binomial Theorem in algebra. Do you know what that is? And you must apply it just as you would apply any principle, to everything. And, oh, it is important!”