“Eh?”
“Today she and I are becoming—legalized partners.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
“Partners. We shall join forces, she and I, and work together for success—think of, live for, and concentrate on that goal. Afterwards we—”
But Uncle Clem would not let him finish.
“Rank folly!” he cried, jumping to his feet.
“You’ve read your Plato!” said Wynne.
“Plato be damned! Well enough for an old philosopher to mumble his repressive theories from a dead log in the market-place—but for you at twenty-what-ever-it-may-be, tss—madness—rot—folly! My dear, dear girl, for God’s sake, tell him not to talk such utter damn nonsense.”
“You haven’t quite understood,” said Eve, very gently.
“He speaks of success and denies love—he places success before love. Doesn’t he know—? Here! don’t you know,” twisting suddenly round, “that love is the only success worth having—that success is only possible through love?”