"They will. And they'll have you at every turn."
"No. I'm safe. You see, I don't care for any of them."
"They'll 'have' you all the same. You lend yourself to being 'had.'"
"Do I?" She said it defiantly.
"No. You never lend—you give yourself. To be eaten up. You let everybody prey on you. You'd be preyed on by me, if I let you."
"Oh—you——"
"And yet," he said, "I wonder——"
He paused, considering her with brilliant but unhappy eyes.
"Jinny," he said, "where do you get the fire that you put into your books?"
"Where you get yours," she said.