"I wish I had as much influence with you as you have with me," said Ursula, by way of preparation for confidences.
"Influence? Don't I do whatever you say?"
She laughed. "Nobody has influence over you," she said.
"Not even myself," replied he morosely.
"Well—that talking-to you gave me has had its effect," proceeded Mrs. Fitzhugh. "It set me to thinking. There are other things besides love—man and woman love. I've decided to—to behave myself and give poor Clayton a chance to rest." She smiled, a little maliciously. "He's had a horrible fright. But it's over now. What a fine thing it is for a woman to have a sensible brother!"
Norman grunted, took another liberal draught of the champagne.
"If I had a mind like yours!" pursued Ursula. "Now, you simply couldn't make a fool of yourself."
He looked at her sharply. He felt as if she had somehow got wind of his eccentric doings.
"I've always resented your rather contemptuous attitude toward women," she went on. "But you are right—really you are. We're none of us worth the excitement men make about us."
"It isn't the woman who makes a fool of the man," said Norman. "It's the man who makes a fool of himself. A match can cause a terrific explosion if it's in the right place—but not if it isn't."