“I don’t think it is at all splendid,” said Claire, composedly; “some wickedness is, I grant you; but do I strike you as affecting that kind?”
“I must own that you don’t.”
“Or, indeed, as affecting anything either picturesque or desirable?” she pursued.
Again Damier had to own that she affected no such thing.
“Ah, that is well. I should not like you to misinterpret me,” said Claire. “I make no poses.” And after a slight pause in which he wondered anew over her, she added: “I merely like enjoyment better than anything else in the world.”
“Yours, you know, is a very old philosophy—a universe of will and enjoyment; but one must have a great deal of the former to attain the latter in a world of so many clashing aims,” said Damier.
“Yes, one must.”
“And not the highest type of will. The world, so seen, is a terrible one.”
“Do you think so?” Her look, from the sky, drifted lazily down to him.
“Don’t you?”