“I wonder,” said Francis, turning homeward, “I wonder if he heard a word of all that I said to him.”
“Did you say much?” asked Serge.
“I struck him.”
Serge laughed.
“It was most extraordinary. An uncontrollable impulse. It needed some explanation, for I meant only to assure him that, in spite of his burglarious entry into it, I accepted him as a member of my family. Do you approve, Serge?”
“I believe in Annette. I would rather be Annette than Gertrude or Mary or Minna.”
“So would I. I wonder why?”
“You won’t agree with me, but I detest all this repression of emotion in the name of virtue. It is nothing but cowardice. You can’t destroy emotion by suppressing it. It only goes bad. . . . I’m only thankful to see Annette out of your house and away fighting for her own hand.”
“Theoretically I cannot applaud Annette, but, frankly, I must confess that I am excited and curiously uplifted by her open defiance of . . .”