Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question below.
“Dear Ned,” the letter began. She had once been violently loved by him for three weeks in her pre-marital days. But she had covenanted herself to Jack Hemingway, who had prior claims, and her heart as well; and Ned Bashford had philosophically not broken his heart over it. He merely added the experience to a large fund of similarly collected data out of which he manufactured philosophy. Artistically and temperamentally he was a Greek– a tired Greek. He was fond of quoting from Nietzsche, in token that he, too, had passed through the long sickness that follows upon the ardent search for truth; that he too had emerged, too experienced, too shrewd, too profound, ever again to be afflicted by the madness of youths in their love of truth. “To worship appearance,” he often quoted; “to believe in forms, in tones, in words, in the whole Olympus of appearance!” This particular excerpt he always concluded with, “Those Greeks were superficial–OUT OF PROFUNDITY!”
He was a fairly young Greek, jaded and worn. Women were faithless and unveracious, he held–at such times that he had relapses and descended to pessimism from his wanted high philosophical calm. He did not believe in the truth of women; but, faithful to his German master, he did not strip from them the airy gauzes that veiled their untruth. He was content to accept them as appearances and to make the best of it. He was superficial- -OUT OF PROFUNDITY.