What a man always thought, no
matter how plainly a woman showed that she detested him. "No doubt she
does," said Jane. She had decided upon a course of action. "If I were
you, Davy, I'd keep away from her for the present--give her time to
think it over, to see all the advantages. If a man forces himself on a
queer, wild sort of girl such as Selma is, he's likely to drive her
further away."

Davy reflected. "Guess you're right," said he finally. "My instinct
is always to act--to keep on acting until I get results. But it's
dangerous to do that with Selma. At least, I think so. I don't know.
I don't understand her. I've got nothing to offer her--nothing that
she wants--as she frankly told me. Even if she loved me, I doubt if
she'd marry me--on account of her sense of duty. What you said awhile
ago--about women never doing things from a sense of duty--that shows
how hard it is for a woman to understand what's perfectly simple to a
man. Selma isn't the sheltered woman sort--the sort whose moral
obligations are all looked after by the men of her family. The
old-fashioned woman always belonged to some man--or else was an
outcast. This new style of woman looks at life as a man does."

Jane listened with a somewhat cynical expression. No doubt, in theory,
there was a new style of woman. But practically, the new style of woman
merely TALKED differently; at least, she was still the old-fashioned
woman, longing for dependence upon some man and indifferent to the
obligations men made such a fuss about--probably not so sincerely as
they fancied. But her expression changed when Davy went on to say:

"She'd look at a thing of that sort much as I--or Victor Dorn would."

Jane's heart suddenly sank. Because the unconscious blow had hurt she
struck out, struck back with the first weapon she could lay hold of.
"But you said a minute ago that Victor was a hypocritical demagogue."

Davy flushed with confusion. He was in a franker mood now, however.
"I'd like to think that," he replied. "But I don't honestly believe
it."

"You think that if Victor Dorn loved a woman of our class he'd put her
out of his life?"

"That's hardly worth discussing," said Davy. "No woman of our
class--no woman he'd be likely to look at--would encourage him to the
point where he'd presume upon it."

"How narrow you are!" cried Jane, derisive but even more angry.

"It's different--entirely different--with a man, even in our class.
But a w