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 woman usually has a 'love-margin' you know, and, besides, there s always so much more impetus in a woman,s love. Even though she's hurt, even though she's heartbroken, even though, worst of all, she's a tiny bit bored, all her little, natural love courtesies go on just the same of their own mo- mentum, for a day or a week, or a month, or half a lifetime, till the love-flame kindles again or else goes out altogether. Love has to be like that. But if I were a man, Drew, I'd be awfully careful that that love-margin did n't ever get utterly exhausted. Aleck, though, does n't understand about such things. I smoothed his headaches just as well, and listened to his music just as well, so he shiftlessly took it for granted that I loved him just as well. What nonsense ! Love ?' " Her voice rose almost shrilly. " 'Love ? Bah ! What's love, anyway, but a wicked sort of hypnotism in the way that a mouth slants, or a cheek curves, or a lock of hair colors? Listen to me. If Aleck Reese were a woman and I were a man, I certainly would n't choose his type for a sweetheart irritable, undo- mestic, wild for excitement. How's that for a test? And if Aleck Reese and I were both women, I certainly should n't want him for my friend. Oughtn t that to decide it? Not a vital taste in common, not a vital interest, not a vital ideal !" She began to laugh hysterically. &quot; And I can't