Always I
have to make love to them. It's the only meeting-ground between a man
and most women. You--I couldn't make love to you! You're not seductive,
in the least. You're hard and quick and taut. There's a courage about
you--"
"Please, Professor Kraill," she began, but he silenced her by an
impatient gesture.
"Listen to me, Marcella. You listened to me before, like a little meek
girl on a school-bench. I'm sick, sick, sick of women! Soft corners and
seduction!--Narcotics--when what a man needs is a tonic. Miserable,
soft, uncourageous things. I want the courage of you."
"Can't you see that you're all wrong about me?" she said at last. "I'm
not hard, really--only a bit crusted, I think. See what I've done to
Louis!"
"Louis!" he cried contemptuously. "You're not going to be wasted on that
half thing any longer. I'm not saying it isn't fine to save a man's
life. It is. It's very fine and splendid. But you've to be honest with
yourself, Marcella, and think if it's worth while. He's not worth it. If
you save him from drinking there's very little to him, you know."
"Don't tell me that, because what you say I believe," she cried in a
stricken voice. "It's all my life you're turning to ashes."
"I shall give you beauty for ashes, Marcella. You and I together, we can
go marching on in seven-league boots! There's a kingliness about you.
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