"Yes, she passionately desires your advice. The poor thing made an appeal that would have touched your heart. She wants to be cured of this horrid thing—whatever it is. She wants to escape from Pratt and Clarke and all the rest of those queer people. You must take it up, Morton. You must make up a committee and take charge of her."
"Clarke is mad. No reputable man of science will go on such a committee. The girl will fall into the hands of notoriety-seekers—men of position do not meddle with such questions."
Kate flared forth. "Why don't they? It is their duty just as much as it is Viola's duty to offer herself. That is where I lose patience with you men of science. Why don't you meet these people half-way? Women wouldn't be such bigots—such cowards. If you don't help this poor girl I'll consider you a bigot and coward with the rest."
"Your whole position is most feminine," said Morton, arguing as much against himself as against Kate. "You've only seen this girl once—you have witnessed only one of her performances, and yet you are ready to champion her before the world. I wish you'd tell me how you arrived at a conviction of her honesty. Think of it! She assumes to be the mouth-piece of the dead. The very assumption is a discredit."
"I don't care; she has good, honest, sweet eyes."
"I bow to the force of the eyes, but over against her claim I put the denials of science. The phenomena these fanatics base their hopes upon science has already proven to be tricks, illusions, deceits."
"I don't care, her story, her own attitude towards the thing, convinced me that she is honest."
"It's the rogue who looks like a gentleman who runs the longest race."
"Well," ended Kate, rather helplessly, "see her—see her before you condemn her."
"But I have seen her—I've spent more days in her company than you have hours."