"Don't ask me to think that! I have found the world so base."
"Pardon me a rude question; but what do you know of the world?"
Beatrice looked first in surprise at Harley, then glanced round the room with significant irony.
"As I thought; you call this little room 'the world.' Be it so. I will venture to say, that if the people in this room were suddenly converted into an audience before a stage, and you were as consummate in the actor's art as you are in all others that please and command—"
"Well?"
"And were to deliver a speech full of sordid and base sentiments, you would be hissed. But let any other woman, with half your powers, arise and utter sentiments sweet and womanly, or honest and lofty—and applause would flow from every lip, and tears rush to many a worldly eye. The true proof of the inherent nobleness of our common nature is in the sympathy it betrays with what is noble wherever crowds are collected. Never believe the world is base;—if it were so, no society could hold together for a day. But you would know the author of this book? I will bring him to you."
"And now," said Harley, rising, and with his candid winning smile, "do you think we shall ever be friends?"
"You have startled me so, that I can scarcely answer. But why would you be friends with me?"
"Because you need a friend. You have none."