The Very Young Man did not answer, and the girl went on more seriously. "The women of my race, they are very just. Perhaps you know that, Jack. Often has my brother told us of his own great world and of its problems. And the many things he has told us—Lylda and I—we have often wondered. For every question has its other side, and we cannot judge—from him alone."
The Very Young Man, surprised at the turn their conversation had taken, and confused a little by this calm logic from a girl—particularly from so young and pretty a girl—was at a loss how to go on.
"You cannot understand, Aura," he finally said seriously. "Women may be all kinds; some are bad—some are good. Down here I know it is not that way. Sometimes when a girl is smart she thinks she is smarter than any living man. You would not like that sort of girl would you?"
"My brother never said it just that way," she answered with equal seriousness. "No, that would be bad—very bad. In our land women are only different from men. They know they are not better or worse—only different."
The Very Young Man was thinking of a girl he once knew. "I hate clever girls," he blurted out.
Aura's eyes were teasing him again. "I am so sorry," she said sadly.
The Very Young Man looked his surprise. "Why are you sorry?"
"My sister, she once told me I was clever. My brother said it, too, and I believed them."
The Very Young Man flushed.
"You're different," he repeated.