Fred. You know very well that I dislike no one.
Eve. I’m sure of that. You love all men.
Fred. No doubt, Eve, I love all men. But you will understand that I love some men less than others; and, although I love Edward Athelney very much indeed, I love him, perhaps, less than anybody else in the world.
Eve. But this is quite astonishing! Has Ted Athelney a fault? What is it? Come, sir, name one fault if you can. And mind, he’s my big brother, or as good, so be careful.
Fred. “Frater nascitur non fit.”
Eve. Oh!
Fred. I don’t believe in your amateur brother. With every desire to confine himself to the duties of the character he undertakes, he is nevertheless apt to overlook the exact point where the brother ends and the lover begins.
Eve. (puzzled). The lover!
Fred. The brother by birth keeps well within bounds, but the amateur treads so often on the border line that in time it becomes obliterated and the functions merge.