He laughed heartily. "How little you know my friends," said he. "I am their leader only because I am working with them, doing what we all see must be done, doing it in the way in which we all see it must be done."
"But THAT is not power!" cried Jane.
"No," replied Victor. "But it is the career I wish—the only one I'd have. Power means that one's followers are weak or misled or ignorant. To be first among equals—that's worth while. The other thing is the poor tawdriness that kings and bosses crave and that shallow, snobbish people admire."
"I see that," said Jane. "At least, I begin to see it. How wonderful you are!"
Victor laughed. "Is it that I know so much, or is it that you know so little?"
"You don't like for me to tell you that I admire you?" said Jane, subtle and ostentatiously timid.
"I don't care much about it one way or the other," replied Victor, who had, when he chose, a rare ability to be blunt without being rude. "Years ago, for my own safety, I began to train myself to care little for any praise or blame but my own, and to make myself a very searching critic of myself. So, I am really flattered only when I win my own praise—and I don't often have that pleasure."
"Really, I don't see why you bother with me," said she with sly innocence—which was as far as she dared let her resentments go.
"For two reasons," replied he promptly. "It flatters me that you are interested in me. The second reason is that, when I lost control of myself yesterday, I involved myself in certain responsibilities to you. It has seemed to me that I owe it to myself and to you to make you see that there is neither present nor future in any relations between us."
She put out her hand, and before he knew what he was doing he had clasped it. With a gentle, triumphant smile she said: "THERE'S the answer to all your reasoning, Victor."