“That is not what I asked you. You answered for the race, not for yourself. Are you afraid of being disloyal to Mary Gordon? Well, these two weeks are to be mine, not hers. If you will not be frank with me how are we to know each other? And I will keep your confidences. Tell me—is that your idea of happiness?”
“No,” he said. “It is not.”
“Why did you ask her to marry you—seeing things as clearly as you do? There is not the same excuse for you as for many men.”
“Four years ago I had thought less. And propinquity is a strong factor.”
“What shall you do when you meet the one woman?”
“I don’t know. No man knows beforehand what he will do in any circumstance. Perhaps I should behave like a scoundrel and cut. Perhaps I should find strength somewhere.”
“What is the use of strength? What do all those ideals amount to, anyhow? I have often had the most exalted longings, a desire for something better and higher, I hardly know what. And I have always asked—To what end? Cui bono?”
“That is because you will believe that the mystery of your nature means nothing; that the blind striving of millions of beings for spiritual things, which is formulated under the general name of religion, means nothing. The lower plane you live on now the longer will be your climb hereafter.”
“Does Mary Gordon share your convictions?”
“I have never spoken of them to her.”