"Oh, don't underrate Mazie's cynicism. It has been hammered into a durable, serviceable instrument by some very hard knocks. Knocks that she got from men. Her flippant manner often obscures some very sound remarks, like the one that there'll be no equality between the sexes until women exploit men as shamelessly as men exploit women."
"Doesn't the modern woman do this, already?" asked Robert, with a smile.
"How often does she get the same chance? It's equality of chances that I'm aiming for, you know."
"So am I for that matter," said Robert. "I hope we'll get your equality of chances before long. Then we can work together for decency."
It was close upon midnight when they took a taxi back to the Boulevard Haussman.
Not a soul was stirring in the Maison Paulette. Robert and Janet walked through the corridor on the rez-de-chausée to the rear building, the one used for sleeping quarters. For a few minutes they stopped in the vestibule at the foot of the staircase.
Now, as throughout the evening, their instincts swayed them one way, their reason another. Each misunderstood the motives of the other; and, what with this misunderstanding and the economic insecurity of their circumstances, the scales were tipped in favor of discretion. Besides, Janet mistrusted her impulses far more than formerly. True, Robert mistrusted his far less. In spite of his better judgment, he was succumbing to her ensnaring voice and eyes, was surrendering to an intense longing to tempt her into a betrayal, an unambiguous betrayal, of her real feelings.
But he proceeded in a manner too inadequate.
"I'm no clearer about your plans than before," he said, awkwardly. "You haven't really taken me into your confidence."
"About Monsieur St. Hilaire?"