“Such vacillation doesn’t seem logical, in a man,” Ida interposed. “Don’t you practical people rather pride yourselves on being free from our complexities? Still I suppose there is an explanation.”
“I’m not a philosopher,” Fuller replied. “If you have the constructive faculty, it’s your business to make things and not examine your feelings; but my explanation’s something like this—When you take a big risk you have a kind of unconscious judgment that tells you if you’re right, but human nature’s weak, and scares you really don’t believe in begin to grip. Then it depends on your nerve whether you make good or not.”
“Don’t they call it sub-conscious?” Ida asked. “And how does that judgment come?”
“I guess it’s built up on past experience, on things you’ve learned long since and stored away. In a sense, they’re done with, you don’t call them up and argue from them; but all the same, they’re the driving force when you set your teeth and go ahead.”
Ida looked at Dick. “That can’t apply to us, who have no long experience to fall back upon.”
“I’ve only made one venture of the kind, but I’ve just discovered that it turned out right.”
Fuller smiled. “That’s neat.” Then he turned to Ida. “But I wasn’t talking about women. They don’t need experience.”
“Sometimes you’re merely smart, and sometimes you’re rather deep, but I can’t decide which you are just now,” Ida rejoined. “However, I expect you’re longing to get back to the plans.”
“No,” said Fuller. “They have to be thought of, but life isn’t all a matter of building dams. Now I’m getting old, I’ve found that out.”
“And you? Have you any opinion on the subject?” Ida asked Dick.