“Why is such a hope unreasonable, sir, to a man of your scientific mind?”
“It is a question of taste,” snapped Lowell.
“Am I not a graduate of the same university with you? Did I not stand as high, and age for age, am I not your equal in culture?”
“Granted. Nevertheless you are a negro, and I do not desire the infusion of your blood in my family.”
“But I have more of white than Negro blood, sir.”
“So much the worse. It is the mark of shame.”
“But it is the one drop of Negro blood at which your taste revolts, is it not?”
“To be frank, it is.”
“Why is it an unpardonable sin in me that my ancestors were born under tropic skies where skin and hair were tanned and curled to suit the sun’s fierce rays?”
“All tropic races are not negroes, and your race has characteristics apart from accidents of climate that make it unique in the annals of man,” rejoined Lowell.