"I can see how ANY woman might fall in love with Victor Dorn."
"You're just saying that to be argumentative," said Davy with conviction. "Take yourself, for example."
"I confess I don't see any such contrast between Victor and you—except where the comparison's altogether in his favor," said Jane pleasantly. "You don't know as much as he does. You haven't the independence of character—or the courage—or the sincerity. You couldn't be a real leader, as he is. You have to depend on influence, and on trickery."
A covert glance at the tall, solemn-looking young man riding silently beside her convinced her that he was as uncomfortable as she had hoped to make him.
"As for manners—and the things that go to make a gentleman," she went on, "I'm not sure but that there, too, the comparison is against you. You always suggest to me that if you hadn't the pattern set for men of our class and didn't follow it, you'd be absolutely lost, Davy, dear. While Victor—he's a fine, natural person, with the manners that grow as naturally out of his personality as oak leaves grow out of an oak."
Jane was astonished and delighted by this eloquence of hers about the man she loved—an eloquence far above her usual rather commonplace mode of speech and thought. Love was indeed an inspirer! What a person she would become when she had Victor always stimulating her. She went on:
"A woman would never grow tired of Victor. He doesn't talk stale stuff such as all of us get from the stale little professors and stale, dreary text-books at our colleges."
"Why don't you fall in love with him?" said Davy sourly.
"I do believe you're envious of Victor Dorn," retorted Jane.
"What a disagreeable mood you're in to-day," said Davy.