Why do men read 'em? They
grin when they do it! Love is only the sixth sense--just one-sixth of a
man's existence. The other five-sixths of his time he's using his other
senses working for a living."
Selwyn looked up over his newspaper, then lowered and folded it.
"In these novels," continued Gerard, irritably, "five-sixths of the
pages are devoted to love; everything else is subordinated to it; it
controls all motives, it initiates all action, it drugs reason, it
prolongs the tuppenny suspense, sustains cheap situations, and produces
agonisingly profitable climaxes for the authors. . . . Does it act that
way in real life?"
"Not usually," said Selwyn.
"Nobody else thinks so, either. Why doesn't somebody tell the truth? Why
doesn't somebody tell us how a man sees a nice girl and gradually begins
to tag after her when business hours are over? A respectable man is busy
from eight or nine until five or six. In the evening he's usually at the
club, or dining out, or asleep; isn't he? Well, then, how much time
does it leave for love? Do the problem yourself in any way you wish; the
result is a fraction every time; and that fraction represents the proper
importance of the love interest in its proper ratio to a man's entire
life.
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