"And why should I not be proud of my race ?" Frona's cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling.

They had both been harking back to childhood, and she had been telling Corliss of her mother, whom she faintly remembered.

Fair and flaxen-haired, typically Saxon, was the likeness she had drawn, filled out largely with knowledge gained from her father and from old Andy of the Dyea Post.
The discussion had then turned upon the race in general, and Frona had said things in the heat of enthusiasm which affected the more conservative mind of Corliss as dangerous and not solidly based on fact.

He deemed himself too large for race egotism and insular prejudice, and had seen fit to laugh at her immature convictions.
"It's a common characteristic of all peoples," he proceeded, "to consider themselves superior races,--a naive, natural egoism, very healthy and very good, but none the less manifestly untrue.

The Jews conceived themselves to be God's chosen people, and they still so conceive themselves--" "And because of it they have left a deep mark down the page of history," she interrupted.
"But time has not proved the stability of their conceptions.