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CHAPTER XXIX
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II
The need of explaining Erik dragged her back into doubting. For all his ardent reading, and his ardent life, was he anything but a small-town youth bred on an illiberal farm and in cheap tailor shops? He had rough hands. She had been attracted only by hands that were fine and suave, like those of her father. Delicate hands and resolute purpose. But this boy—powerful seamed hands and flabby will.
"It's not appealing weakness like his, but sane strength that win animate the Gopher Prairies. Only— Does that mean anything? Or am I echoing Vida? The world has always let `strong' statesmen and soldiers—the men with strong voices— take control, and what have the thundering boobies done? What is `strength'?
"This classifying of people! I suppose tailors differ as much as burglars or kings.
"Erik frightened me when he turned on me. Of course he didn't mean anything, but I mustn't let him be so personal.
"Amazing impertinence!
"But he didn't mean to be.
"His hands are firm. I wonder if sculptors don't have thick hands, too?
"Of course if there really is anything I can do to help the boy—
"Though I despise these people who interfere. He must be independent."
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CHAPTER XXIX
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