After all, you're like all men--just the same, no different.

Idealism, self-sacrifice, con true nobility of character, where are these, in you?
What is there but the same old selfishness, the same innate masculine conceit and--" "No more of this, Kate!" cried the financier, paling a little.

"No more! I can't have it! I won't--it's impossible! You--you don't understand, I tell you.

In your narrow, untrained, woman's way, you try to set up standards for me; try to judge me, and dictate to me.

Some old puritanical streak in you is cropping out, some blue-law atavism, some I know not what, that rebels against my taking a drink--like every other man.