"Perhaps you'd prefer I didn't go."
"It's not a matter of much importance, one way or the other—except perhaps to yourself," replied he.
"Any one individual can do the human race little good by learning the truth about life. The only benefit is to himself. Don't forget that in your sweet enthusiasm for doing something noble and generous and helpful. Don't become a Davy Hull. You know, Davy is on earth for the benefit of the human race. Ever since he was born he has been taken care of—supplied with food, clothing, shelter, everything. Yet he imagines that he is somehow a God-appointed guardian of the people who have gathered and cooked his food, made his clothing, served him in every way. It's very funny, that attitude of your class toward mine."
"They look up to us," said Jane. "You can't blame us for allowing it—for becoming pleased with ourselves."
"That's the worst of it—we do look up to you," admitted he. "But—we're learning better."
"YOU'VE already learned better—you personally, I mean. I think that when you compare me, for instance, with a girl like Selma Gordon, you look down on me."
"Don't you, yourself, feel that any woman who is self-supporting and free is your superior?"
"In some moods, I do," replied Jane. "In other moods, I feel as I was brought up to feel."
They talked on and on, she detaining him without seeming to do so. She felt proud of her adroitness. But the truth was that his stopping on for nearly two hours was almost altogether a tribute to her physical charm—though Victor was unconscious of it. When the afternoon was drawing on toward the time for her father to come, she reluctantly let him go. She said:
"But you'll come again?"