“All right, honey,” the artist agreed with a smile. “I won't say anything more, except that you're fooling yourself about the depth of this intuitive knowledge. Your infatuation is not based on the verdict of your deepest and truest instincts.” “On what, then?” “The crazy ideals of the novels you've been reading--that's all.” “Ridiculous!” “You're absolutely sure, for instance, that God made just one man the mate of one woman, aren't you?” “As sure as that I live.” “Where did you learn it?” “So long ago I can't remember.” “Not in your Bible?” “No.” “The Sunday school?” “No.” “Craddock didn't tell you that, did he?” “Hardly----” “I thought not. He has too much horse-sense in spite of his emotional gymnastics. You learned it in the first dime-novel you read.” “I never read a dime-novel in my life,” she interrupted, indignantly. “I know--you paid a dollar and a quarter for it--but it was a dime-novel. The philosophy of this school of trash you have built into a creed of life. How can you be so blind? How can you make so tragic a blunder?” “That's just it, Jane: I couldn't if your impressions of his character were true. I couldn't make a mistake about so vital a question. I couldn't love him if he really were a coarse, illiterate brute. What you see is only on the surface. He hasn't had his chance yet----” “Who is he? What does he do? Who are his people?” “He has no people----” “I thought not.” “I love him all the more deeply,” she went on firmly, “because of his miserable childhood. I'll do my best to make up for the years of cruelty and hunger and suffering through which he passed. What right have you to sit in judgment on him without a hearing? You've known him two hours----” Jane shrugged her shoulders. “Two minutes was quite enough.” “And you judge by what standard?” “My five senses, and my sixth sense above all. One look at his square bulldog jaw, his massive neck and the deformity of his delicate hands and feet! I hear the ignorant patois of the East Side underworld. I smell the brimstone in his suppressed rage at my dislike. There's something uncanny in the sensuous droop of his heavy eyelids and the glitter of his steel-blue eyes. There's something incongruous in his whole personality. I was afraid of him the moment I saw him.” Mary broke into hysterical laughter. “And if my five senses and my intuitions contradict yours? Who is to decide? If I loved him on sight----If I looked into his eyes and saw the soul of my mate? If their cold fires thrill me with inexpressible passion? If I see in his massive neck and jaw the strength of an irresistible manhood, the power to win success and to command the world? If I see in his slender hands and small feet lines of exquisite beauty--am I to crush my senses and strangle my love to please your idiotic prejudice?” Jane threw up her hands in despair.