"I know that a man like you wouldn't care for a woman of my sort."
"If I were you," said he gently, "I'd not say those things about myself. Saying them encourages you to think them. And thinking them gives you a false point of view. You must learn to appreciate that you're not a sheltered woman, with reputation for virtue as your one asset, the thing that'll enable you to get some man to undertake your support. You are dealing with the world as a man deals with it. You must demand and insist that the world deal with you on that basis." There came a wonderful look of courage and hope into the eyes of Lorella's daughter.
"And the world will," he went on. "At least, the only part of it that's important to you—or really important in any way. The matter of your virtue or lack of it is of no more importance than is my virtue or lack of it."
"Do you really believe that way?" asked Susan, earnestly.
"It doesn't in the least matter whether I do or not," laughed he. "Don't bother about what I think—what anyone thinks—of you. The point here, as always, is that you believe it, yourself. There's no reason why a woman who is making a career should not be virtuous. She will probably not get far if she isn't more or less so. Dissipation doesn't help man or woman, especially the ruinous dissipation of license in passion. On the other hand, no woman can ever hope to make a career who persists in narrowing and cheapening herself with the notion that her virtue is her all. She'll not amount to much as a worker in the fields of action."
Susan reflected, sighed. "It's very, very hard to get rid of one's sex."
"It's impossible," declared he. "Don't try. But don't let it worry you, either."
"Everyone can't be as strong as you are—so absorbed in a career that they care for nothing else."
This amused him. With forearms on the edge of the table he turned his cigarette slowly round between his fingers, watching the smoke curl up from it. She observed that there was more than a light sprinkle of gray in his thick, carefully brushed hair. She was filled with curiosity as to the thoughts just then in that marvelous brain of his; nor did it lessen her curiosity to know that never would those thoughts be revealed to her. What women had he loved? What women had loved him? What follies had he committed? From how many sources he must have gathered his knowledge of human nature of—woman nature! And no doubt he was still gathering. What woman was it now?
When he lifted his glance from the cigarette, it was to call the waiter and get the bill. "I've a supper engagement," he said, "and it's nearly eleven o'clock."