“You mean that we reap only what we sow?”
“And that life is as much a matter of development in a logical sequence as the growth of certain plants from certain seeds. It isn’t—it can’t be—a mere frenzy of haphazards. Things happen to us in a certain way because what we’ve done leaves them no other way.”
“And was there no other way in which this could happen to you and me?”
“Think! Isn’t it the very outcome that might have been expected from what we’ve been in the past?”
I stared at her without comprehension.
“Because of your past life,” she went on, “there was something you couldn’t tell me; and because I didn’t know it I’ve taken a step which my past life doesn’t allow me to retrace. Could anything be neater?”
“And yet you’re fond of saying that the way things happen is the best way.”
“It’s the best way if it’s the only way, isn’t it? I should go mad if I thought that my life hung on nothing but caprice—whether of luck or fate or anything you call God. I can stand my deserts, however hard, if I know they’re my deserts.”
“You can stand this?”
“This is not a question of standing; it’s one of working out. Life isn’t static; it’s dynamic—those are the right words, aren’t they? It’s always unfolding. One thing leads to the next thing; and then there must be times when a lot of things that seemed separate are gathered up in one immense result. Don’t you think it must be that way?”