“In every way. I am a man, and you’re a woman.”
Clare Heywood thought this answer out. She seemed to find something in the argument.
“Yes,” she said, “it does make a lot of difference.”
“I object strongly to this religious craze of yours,” said Herbert, trying to be calm and reasonable. “It’s unnatural. It’s—it’s devilish absurd.”
“It may keep me from—from doing other things,” said Clare.
She spoke as though the words had some tragic significance.
“Why can’t you stay at home and read a decent novel?”
“It is so difficult to find a decent novel. And I am sick of them all.”
“Well, play the piano, then,” said Herbert.
“I am tired of playing the piano, especially when there is no one to listen.”