“Perhaps in a commercial sense, but not in love affairs,” said Marie, laughing. “Now what sort of a rule could possibly have governed Ethel and her lover?”
“Certainly a poor one,” replied Hugh.
“Are you quite sure, Mr. Stanton, that this Dr. Jack Redfield loves Ethel as a hero in a novel seems to love his fiancie?”
“The illusion seems to be perfect,” replied Hugh, smiling.
“Do you believe in love, Mr. Stanton?” asked Marie, demurely.
“Yes, I presume there is such a sentiment,” replied Hugh.
“And do you think,” Marie went on, “that true love will endure any sort of a test?”
“I do not know, I’m sure,” said Hugh.
“Well,” persisted Marie, “what is the test of a man’s love for a woman?”
“The test,” replied Hugh, “of a man’s love for a woman?” He looked afar across the valley as if meditatively weighing the question that has perplexed the sages of all centuries. Finally he said, “A man not infrequently lies with reckless prodigality to the woman he truly loves, while to those toward whom he entertains sentiments of indifference he will confess the truth without clothing it with sufficient covering to even hide its nakedness.”