were coming into fashion about that time among elegant young men.
“Not really!… But he never really said that…. You can’t mean it.”
“Oh, but I assure you, he did!”
“… It’s simply past belief!… I can’t believe he’s as bad as that.”
“Oh, but he is! It’s incredible, I know, but you’ve no idea what he’s capable of.” And so on.
And yet old Seth Flint was badly needed in that class: his bitter and unvarnished tongue caused Professor Hatcher many painful moments, but it had its use—oh, it had its use, particularly when the play was of this nature:
Irene (slowly, with scorn and contempt in her voice). So—it has come to this! This is all your love amounts to—a little petty selfish thing! I had thought you were bigger than that, John.
John (desperately). But—but, my God, Irene—what am I to think? I found you in bed with him—my best friend! (with difficulty). You know—that looks suspicious, to say the least!
Irene (softly—with amused contempt in her voice). You poor little man! And to think I thought your love was so big.
John (wildly). But I do love you, Irene. That’s just the point.
Irene (with passionate scorn). Love! You don’t know what love means! Love is bigger than that! Love is big enough for all things, all people. (She extends her arms in an all-embracing gesture.) My love takes in the world—it embraces all mankind! It is glamorous, wild, free as the wind, John.
John (slowly). Then you have had other lovers?
Irene: Lovers come, lovers go. (She makes an impatient gesture.) What is that? Nothing! Only love endures—my love, which is greater than all.
Eugene would writhe in his seat, and clench his hands convulsively. Then he would turn almost prayerfully to the bitter, mummied face of old Seth Flint for that barbed but cleansing vulgarity that always followed such a scene:
“Well?” Professor Hatcher would say, putting down the manuscript he had been reading, taking off his eye-glasses (which were attached to a ribbon of black silk) and looking around with a quizzical smile, an impassive expression on his fine, distinguished face. “Well?” he would say again urbanely, as no one answered. “Is there any comment?”
“What is she?” Seth would break the nervous silence with his rasping snarl. “Another of these society whores? You know,” he continued, “you can find plenty of her kind for three dollars a throw without any of that fancy palaver.”
