He had Susan's attention for the first time.
"Do you know why women don't get on?"
"Tell me," said she. "That's what I want to hear."
"Because they don't play the game under the rules. Now, what does a man do? Why, he stakes everything he's got—does whatever's necessary, don't stop at nothing to help him get there. How is it with women? Some try to be virtuous—when their bodies are their best assets. God! I wish I'd 'a' had your looks and your advantages as a woman to help me. I'd be a millionaire this minute, with a house facing this Park and a yacht and all the rest of it. A woman that's squeamish about her virtue can't hope to win—unless she's in a position to make a good marriage. As for the loose ones, they are as big fools as the virtuous ones. The virtuous ones lock away their best asset; the loose ones throw it away. Neither one use it. Do you follow me?"
"I think so." Susan was listening with a mind made abnormally acute by the champagne she had freely drunk. The coarse bluntness and directness of the man did not offend her. It made what he said the more effective, producing a rude arresting effect upon her nerves. It made the man himself seem more of a person. Susan was beginning to have a kind of respect for him, to change her first opinion that he was merely a vulgar, pushing commonplace.
"Never thought of that before?"
"Yes—I've thought of it. But——" She paused.
"But—what?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Never mind. Some womanish heart nonsense, I suppose. Do you see the application of what I've said to you and me?"