“And I am actuated by positive benevolence,” I read aloud; “I have that pretension.” Gene looked at me. I glared at my book. “What does that even mean?” I burst out. “What is ‘positive benevolence’? What does it mean to be actuated by it? Why is that a pretension?” Gene looked at me. I glared at my book. “And you know, this character could mean anything by it. As far as I can tell, he just invents meanings of words to suit himself.” Gene looked at me. I glared at my book.
“No more Henry James after ten p.m.,” Gene said finally.