“Since--well, since we have been together again, in the last month or two. Something seems to warn me that if we take--what we want, we shan't get it. That's an Irish saying, I know, but it expresses my meaning. I may be little, I may be superstitious, unlike the great women of history who have dared. But it's more than mere playing safe--my instinct, I mean. You see, you are involved. I believe I shouldn't hesitate if only myself were concerned, but you are the uncertain quantity--more uncertain than you have any idea; you think you know yourself, you think you have analyzed yourself, but the truth is, Hugh, you don't know the meaning of struggle against real resistance.” I was about to protest. “I know that you have conquered in the world of men and affairs,” she hurried on, “against resistance, but it isn't the kind of resistance I mean. It doesn't differ essentially from the struggle in the animal kingdom.” I bowed. “Thank you,” I said. She laughed a little. “Oh, I have worshipped success, too. Perhaps I still do--that isn't the point. An animal conquers his prey, he is in competition, in constant combat with others of his own kind, and perhaps he brings to bear a certain amount of intelligence in the process. Intelligence isn't the point, either. I know what I'm saying is trite, it's banal, it sounds like moralizing, and perhaps it is, but there is so much confusion to-day that I think we are in danger of losing sight of the simpler verities, and that we must suffer for it. Your super-animal, your supreme-stag subdues the other stags, but he never conquers himself, he never feels the need of it, and therefore he never comprehends what we call tragedy.” “I gather your inference,” I said, smiling.