"Wouldn't you follow David that way?"
"David wouldn't ask it. No civilized man would."
"No, David wouldn't," he said quietly.
She glanced quickly at him. Did she hear the note of mockery which she
sensed whenever he alluded to her lover? She was ready at once to take
up arms for David, but the face opposite was devoid of any expression
save an intent, expectant interest. She dropped her eyes to her dress,
perturbed by the closeness of her escape from a foolish exhibition
which would have made her ridiculous. She always felt with Courant
that she would be swept aside as a trivial thing if she lost her
dignity. He watched her and she grew nervous, plucking at her skirt
with an uncertain hand.
"I wonder if you could?" he said after a pause.
"Of course not," she snapped.
"Aren't you enough of a woman?"
"I'm not enough of a fool."
"Aren't all women in love fools--anyway for a while?"
She made no answer, and presently he said, his voice lowered:
"Not enough of a woman to know how to love a man. Doesn't even for a
moment understand it. It's 'poor Susan.'"
Fury seized her, for she had not guessed where he was leading her, and
now saw herself not only shorn of her dignity but shorn of her woman's
prerogative of being able to experience a mad and unreasonable passion.
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