“Go on,” he said. “I am not so limited that I do not wish to be told so.”
“You showed just the same smallness when you talked to me about Cambridge,” she said. “You thought that you were broad, because you thought that it was narrow. Did it never occur to you that you thought it was narrow simply because you were not broad enough to take it in? The one explanation is as simple as the other.”
“I’m quite convinced I’m broader than Markham,” said Tom, frankly. “He thinks about nothing but snuffy old scholiasts.”
“And you think about nothing but Greek art; you have said so yourself. Is it quite certain that you are broader than he?”
Tom stood for a moment thinking.
“Do you think I’m narrow?” he asked at length.
“That is beside the point,” she said. “If I did not, it might only show that I was narrow in the same way as you.”
“No, that can’t be,” said Tom, plunging at the only opening he could see. “You must remember you like Manvers’ statuettes.”
“Well, from that standpoint I do think you narrow,” she said. “It seems to me very odd that you shouldn’t see how good they are.”
“Do you mean how clever they are?”