THE AMERICAN
"the kindness that costs nothing, the kindness you show to a child. It's as if you rather looked down on him. It's as if you did n't respect him."
"Respect him? Why, respect's a big feeling. But I guess I do."
"You guess? If you're not sure, it's no respect."
"Do you respect him?" Newman asked. "If you do then I do."
"If one loves a person, that's a question one's not bound to answer," said Madame de Cintré.
"You shouldn't have asked it of me then. I'm very fond of your brother."
"He amuses you. But you would n't like to resemble him."
"I should n't like to resemble any one. It's hard enough work resembling one's self."
"What do you mean," she demanded, "by resembling one's self?"
"Why, doing what's expected of one. Doing one's duty."
"But that's hard—or at any rate it's urgent—only when one's very good."
"Well, a great many people are good enough—so long as they insist on being so!" he optimistically laughed. "Valentine, at all events, is good enough for me."
She was silent a little, and then, with inconsequence, "Ah, I could wish him rather better!" she declared. "I could wish he would do something."
Her companion considered: after which, candidly: "What in the world can Valentine 'do'?"
"Well, he's very clever."
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