“There is so much in life that is worse than loneliness.” Her voice sounded as dry as dust. “Moreover, it is an excellent rampart. But I am not lonely. I work constantly. Why do you set such a high value on human companionship?”
“I don’t think I do. I am often glad enough to get away from people. And I fancy I read a good deal more than I talk—and I am not sure that I don’t like the theatre quite as well as society. But, after all—there are certain wants—”
“We outlive so many of them!”
“Do we—permanently, I mean? I feel that sooner or later you would have flung down your barriers. It is mere chance that makes me the blessed first.”
“I wonder?”
“Whether it is chance or destiny?” He smiled as if at the audacity of his own words.
“Not at all. There is no such thing as chance, or any destiny but that which you make for yourself—that is, after you are old enough to know what you are about. I wondered if the human needs were stronger than the brain.”
“I was thinking of mental needs when I spoke. Nothing is more human than the brain. One can get on without love, after one has had a dose or two of it, but not without striking fire from another brain now and again. From one brain in particular, I should say.”
“That is a curious speech for so young a man to make.”
“Perhaps I should not make it if I were ten years older. For the matter of that, do years count? We come into the world encased in traditions and are only happy when we have shed the last of them.”