"I n-never thought of that before. Of course you're right--I ought to
have thought of it--even from the point of view of a psychologist."
"I don't think it's anything to do with any 'ologists at all. It's just
common sense. Louis, I've been thinking a lot this week. You know, when
father used to get--ill--no, drunk (Why should I be afraid to tell the
truth, in spite of your sneers about poor father?) I was too wee to know
very much. But knowing him as I do, I'm certain he tried and tried
again. After mother died he left whisky alone, though he still had it in
the house. He took to reading philosophy instead. You see, he was not
like you. There was a hardness, a bravery in him that you haven't got.
You have cussedness instead and cussedness is a thing you can never be
sure of. You see," she went on, flushing a little, and suddenly tossing
her head proudly, "you don't understand this, and it may sound most
appalling snobbishness to you. But my father's people have always been
rulers--little kings--fighters, while yours have been just ordinary,
protected folk. My people have had to fight for everything, even their
food, their lands, their home. Yours have had shops and investments and
policemen round every corner--there is a difference--Louis, am I
offending you?" she asked anxiously.
"Go on!" he said hoarsely.
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