Claudia paused. “But that would strike at the root of all conviction,” she said doubtfully.
“Oh, by no means. Yours—excuse me—is a feminine leap at conclusions. Do you really suppose that half the convictions in the world are capable of being proved by argument?”
“Then,” she said, “I don’t see how they can be convictions.”
“Well, experimentalise upon your own. If you are fair I suspect you’ll find more than half are backed up by nothing better than a little prejudice and a little— No, I won’t say the other thing.”
“Do,” said Claudia, flushing. No one had ever spoken to her so plainly before, yet after what she had said, she could not have the satisfaction of showing her displeasure.
She added quickly, “Though you know nothing of me.”
“I’ve only a conviction. Are you going?”
“Yes, indeed; I’ve wasted time enough.”
“Even workers must eat!” returned Fenwick, maliciously, as he rose.