"What do you mean?"
"Well, a whole century separates the Janet I first knew—the Janet who hesitated to go to a picture play on the Sabbath—from the Janet who reads Bernard Shaw and Bertrand Russell, attends labor meetings on Sundays, and catches each newest whiff of radical opinion. The change takes one's breath away."
"You admit it's a change for the better, don't you?"
"In every way but one."
"Which one?"
"You have taken Cornelia too seriously. Her views on sex are morbid and totally unsuited for adoption by a healthy, inexperienced girl."
"Now, Robert, please don't begin that over again. You've said it all before."
"I shall say it and say it again until I've convinced you. Even you must admit that Cornelia has a chronic grudge against men."
"Well, it isn't so unnatural, after her unhappy love affair, is it?"
"Precisely. As a result of that love affair, all her sex emotions are inverted. She sublimates her sex into acts of spite, usually unconscious acts. For instance, she is subtly encouraging you to run off with Claude as she ran off with Percival Houghton. Forgive me for mentioning it, Janet. But I can't bear to see you duped. Believe me, if you followed her example, with an equally unhappy result, she would like nothing better."