"It's the idea of the thing, partly. I don't want to wear a wedding ring and be Mrs. Briscoe. I want to be Gerda Bendish, living with Barry Briscoe because we like to.... I expect, Barry, in my case it _would_ be for always, because, at present, I can't imagine stopping caring more for you than for anything else. But that doesn't affect the principle of the thing. It would be _wrong_ for me to marry you. One oughtn't to give up one's principles just because it seems all right in a particular case. It would be cheap and shoddy and cowardly." "Exactly," said Barry, "what I feel. I can't give up my principle either, you know. I've had mine longer than you've had yours." "I've had mine since I was about fifteen." "Five years. Well, I've had mine for twenty. Ever since I first began to think anything out, that is." "People of your age," said Gerda, "people over thirty, I mean, often think like that about marriage. I've noticed it. So has Kay." "Observant infants. Well, there we stand, then. One of us has got either to change his principles--her principles, I mean--or to be false to them. Or else, apparently, there can be nothing doing between you and me. That's the position, isn't it?" Gerda nodded, her mouth full of apple. "It's very awkward," Barry continued, "my having fallen in love with you. I had not taken your probable views on sociology into account. I knew that, though we differed in spelling and punctuation, we were agreed (approximately) on politics, economics, and taste in amusements, and I thought that was enough. I forgot that divergent views on matrimony were of practical importance. It would have mattered less if I had discovered that you were a militarist and imperialist and quoted Marx at me." "I did tell you, Barry. I really did. I never hid it. And I never supposed that you'd want to _marry_ me." "That was rather stupid of you. I'm so obviously a marrying man.... Now, darling, will you think the whole thing out from the beginning, after I've gone? Be first-hand; don't take over theories from other people, and don't be sentimental about it. Thrash the whole subject out with yourself and with other people--with your own friends, and with your family too. They're a modern, broad-minded set, your people, after all; they won't look at the thing conventionally; they'll talk sense; they won't fob you off with stock phrases, or talk about the sanctity of the home. They're not institutionalists. Only be fair about it; weigh all the pros and cons, and judge honestly, and for heaven's sake don't look at the thing romantically, or go off on theories because they sound large and subversive. Think of practical points, as well as of ultimate principles. Both, to my mind, are on the same side. I'm not asking you to sacrifice right for expediency, or expediency for right. I don't say 'Be sensible,' or 'Be idealistic.' We've got to be both."