"You ask me to speak to you honestly," she said. "Well, I will. I could never love a man—that is as you would be loved—if I did not respect him and I could not respect a man who was the slave to an evil habit."
"You mean——" he hesitated, and looked on the floor.
"Yes, I mean that."
"Look here," he said eagerly, "promise that you will be my wife, and I will never taste a drop of alcohol of any sort again. I give you my word for that. Neither wine, nor whisky, nor spirits of any sort shall ever again pass my lips."
Again she looked at him eagerly, and he thought he saw her eyes soften.
"I mean it," he went on. "What I want is motive power; given that, I can conquer anything. Well, I will do this; say yes, and from this time forward I will never touch it again—never, never!"
"If a thing is an evil, if it is a wrong," she said, "a man should fight it because it is wrong. If a habit has mastered you, you should fight it, and conquer it—because of your respect of—your own manhood."
"You ask too much," he said. "No man can do and be without a sufficient motive. Take you out of my life, and what motive have I?"
"The belief in your own manhood."
"Why should I believe in that? If you refuse me, what have I to live for? Yes, I fight for a position which at heart I despise. I become a member of the British Parliament; many who have not the brains of a rabbit, nor the ideals of a low tavern-keeper, occupy that position. Faith in God and man! I can only think of them through you."