“Do you really think that?”
Again the great head bowed. And there was a long silence. Rocky broke it
“I wish you would tell me exactly how you feel about marriage between the races.”
“Why—really—”
“You must have observed a lot, all these years out here. And the pater tells me that you're an able man, except that you've sort of lost your perspective. He did tell me that he'd like to have you with him, if you could only bring yourself around to our ways.” Rocky, even now, could see this only as a profound compliment. He rushed on: “Oh, don't misunderstand me! She doesn't love me yet. How could she? I've got to earn the right even to speak of it again. But if I should earn the right—in time—tell me, could an American make her happy?”
“I'm afraid I can't answer that general question.” But Rocky felt that he was kind. “The pater says I'd be wrecking my life. He says she'd always be pulled two ways—you know! God! He seemed to think I had only to ask her, and she'd come. He doesn't understand.”
“No,” said Doane—“I'm afraid he couldn't understand.”
“You feel that too? It's very perplexing. I know I've spoken carelessly about the Chinese and Manchus. I looked down on them. I did! But oh, if I could only make it clear to you how I feel now! If I could only express it! We've been talking a long time, she and I. I don't mind telling you I'm taking a pretty bitter lesson, right now. She knows so much. She has such fine—well, ideals—”
“Certainly.”
“Oh, you've noticed that!.... Well, I feel crude beside her. Of course, I am.”