Arlette stood in the dining-room door, making her silent announcement that dinner was served. Her round eyes, which usually wore an expression of surprise, were now frightened, and she stared at Kendall as if he were some sort of explosive that was likely to go off at any moment with a tremendous explosion. Then she withdrew her head and could be heard padding out to the kitchen.
“Come on,” said Bert. “Dinner’s on.”
“I don’t want any dinner.”
“You don’t deserve any dinner,” said Bert, hotly, “but you’ve got to eat.” He pushed Ken toward the dining-room. “In with you.”
Kendall obeyed apathetically, took his chair and began to eat automatically, without interest in his food. He had anticipated a sort of barbarous pleasure from his harshness toward Andree, but found it ashes in his mouth. He was ashamed of himself, and then ashamed of himself again for being ashamed. He had done right, exactly right, he insisted. She had deserved what he had given her, but nevertheless he was ashamed of himself. There are two identities in every man, the emotional, the sentimental, the natural—and the intellectual. Either of these identities may perform actions satisfactory to itself but abhorrent to the other. Kendall’s intellectual and logical self was content; his emotional self accused him.... If one would be happy, if he would gain and retain affection, if he would have the best gifts of life for himself and those with whom he comes in contact, he should place confidence in his emotional self rather than his intellectual. The emotions are natural and for the most part kindly. They do not operate by rule and precept, but spontaneously; intellect is artificial and logic is without the warmth of life.... Even the law recognizes a distinction, for it does not punish a crime of emotion with the severity that it metes out to the crime of cold reason. Peter was emotional, he denied his Master, yet was forgiven and stands chief of the companions of Christ; Judas took logical thought and betrayed. He committed the unforgivable sin. The difference was not so much in kind as in cause....
“What would you have done?” he demanded, suddenly, of Bert.
“I wouldn’t have been so infernally brutal.... You and I have been friends a long time, haven’t we?... Well, right now I’m nearer to wanting to give you a thrashing than I thought I could ever come. It was rotten!... Poor kid!... And the way she took it! Without a word or a whimper!... But did you see her face?... I came darn near blubbing.”
“She deserved it.... She did. She did a rotten thing—and anybody would think it was I who was to blame. I won’t be put in the wrong.”
“I’m not going to quarrel with you. You asked me what I thought, and I told you.... I wouldn’t have the confounded conscience you have to live with for a million dollars. I’m no angel. I suppose I do a lot of things the righteous folks back home would think were pretty bad. I’m not much on religion, either. But, all the same, if there is a God, I’ll bet He’s a lot more apt to take a liking to the fellow who is a bit off color, but tries to be sort of kind and tolerant, and not to hurt folks, than He is to the man who lives up to every letter and punctuation mark of the law, and does it like a brute.... From what I’ve seen of you stiff-necked, righteous folks, if I were God I’d be pretty average sore to think I had to have heaven crowded with you. You’d irritate me till I let in a bunch of sinners just to get some decent company....”
“Right is right and wrong is wrong.”