"Why not before people? People have become too artificial. They must not love, nor hate, nor have any feelings, apparently, before people. Feelings are interesting and we ought to show them more."
Henrietta laughed. "Oh, you are silly, silly, silly. I never knew a New York broker could be so silly, so mushy."
"There's not a man living whom the right woman can't make mushy. Women never realize how silly men are at bottom, my own. They are frightened by our exteriors, by the ingrain fear of the chattel for her master, born in women since Eve handed the larger share of the apple to Adam."
"I always thought that I would be dignified and sweet—"
"You are, my love."
"No, I am as silly as you. I put my head on your shoulder just as these girls do whom you see in Central Park on Sunday afternoons. I never thought that I would be like that."
"You have never loved before—"
"Indeed, I have. I have loved nearly every one I have ever met. Most all girls do."
"That isn't love. Merely an increased vibration of the muscles of the heart. Love—ah, Henrietta, do I have to tell you what love is?"
"No," whispered Henrietta. "It's just giving."