"It is the silliest piece of barbaric tradition for a civilized man to think that because a woman has once seen fit to give herself to him, she is his possession for all time. Because she has gone through some form, some ceremony, repeated a horrible oath that she doesn't understand, to say that she belongs to that man, is his, like his horse or his house,—phew! That's mere animalism. Human souls belong to themselves! Most of all the soul of a delicately sensitive woman like Isabelle! She gives, and she can take away. It's her duty to take herself back when she realizes that it no longer means anything to her, that her life is degraded by—"
"Rot!" Vickers exclaimed impatiently. He had scarcely heard what Cairy had been saying. His sickening sense of failure, of impotency, when he wished most for strength, had been succeeded by rage against the man, not because of his fluent argument, but because of himself; not against his theory of license, but against him. He saw Isabelle's life broken on the point of this glib egotism. "We needn't discuss your theories. The one fact is that my sister's life shall not be ruined by you!"
Cairy, dropping back at once to his tone of worldly convention, replied calmly:—
"That I think we shall have to let the lady decide for herself,—whether I shall ruin her life or not. And I beg to point out that this topic is of your own choosing. I regard it as an impertinence. Let us drop it. And if you will point out the direction, I think I will hurry on by myself and get my train."
"My God, no! We won't drop it—not yet. Not until you have heard a little more what I have in mind…. I think I know you, Cairy, better than my sister knows you. Would you make love to a poor woman, who had a lot of children, and take her? Would you take her and her children, like a man, and work for them? … In this case you will be given what you want—"
"I did not look for vulgarity from you! But with the bourgeoisie, I suppose, it all comes down to dollars and cents. I have not considered Mrs. Lane's circumstances."
"It's not mere dollars and cents! Though that is a test,—what a man will do for a woman, not what a woman will do for a man she loves and—pities."
As Cairy shot an ugly glance at him, Vickers saw that he was fast angering the man past all hope of influence. But he was careless now, having utterly failed to avert evil from the one he loved most in the world, and he poured out recklessly his bitter feeling:—
"The only success you have to offer a woman is success with other women! That little nurse in the hospital, you remember? The one who took care of you—"
"If you merely wish to insult me—" the Southerner stammered.