I want her as I've wanted nothing in the
universe before."
"And you've come to care for her as much as that?" he said
sympathetically. "Poor old Simon."
"Why the devil shouldn't I?" I shouted, nettled by his "poor old
Simons."
"Lola Brandt is hardly of your class," said Dale.
I broke out furiously. "Damn class! I've had enough of it. I'm going to
take my life into my own hands and do what I like with it. I'm going to
choose my mate without any reference to society. I've cut myself adrift
from society. It can go hang. Lola Brandt is a woman worth any man's
loving. She is a woman in a million. You know nothing whatever about
her."
The last words were scarcely out of my mouth when an echo from the
distance came and, as it were, banged at my ears. Dale himself had
shrieked them at me in exactly the same tone with reference to the same
woman. I stopped short and looked at him for a moment rather stupidly.
Then the imp of humour, who for some time had deserted me, flew to my
side and tickled my brain.
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