Joanna laboured under a not uncommon delusion that there is a special virtue in upholding any opinion in the face of opposition; and that the oftener one reiterates the opinion, and the more unacceptable it is, the greater is the virtue. To the masculine mind this habit of thought is trying; and Paul found it specially so when it ran right across his boyish enthusiasms. Though he was as yet too young to know all that he had learnt, the river had already taught him more than the schools; it had shown him the necessity for self-imposed discipline, implicit obedience, regular work, strong endurance, stern self-denial and unity of aim and interest; and even if he were unable as yet to realize all this—still less to express it—Joanna's disapproval of his greatest delight partook of the nature of sacrilege in Paul's eyes.
"It's no use talking to you of things which you don't understand," he said crossly; Paul's temper—like canal bridges—never being equal to bearing more than "the ordinary traffic of the district".
"I don't wonder that you enjoy rowing so much, Paul, for it must be so nice on the river these lovely afternoons," interpolated Alice, ever ready to make peace.
But Paul was not so easily appeased. "Nice on the river!" he grumbled, "what an expression! Girls never have an idea of anything better or higher than what they call nice."
Which was very unjust, as well as very disagreeable; for Joanna's visions of duty and Alice's dreams of love were quite equal, from an ethical point of view, to Paul's heroics; but of course Paul did not know this. If he had, he would have been thirty instead of twenty, and wise at that.
"If I were a man I should love to be big and strong," persisted the peacemaker. "It seems just as right for a man to be strong as for a woman to be beautiful."
"I wonder if beautiful women are much happier than plain ones," remarked Joanna.
"Of course they are," replied Alice, "because people love them more, and love is the only thing that really makes a woman happy."
Joanna shook her head. "I don't see that. Your own people will love you whether you are plain or whether you are pretty; and it seems to me to have a lot of outsiders fond of you would be a bother rather than a pleasure."
"But don't you like people to be fond of you?" asked Alice.