"How can he be made for it if he does not do it?" insisted Vavasor.
"How indeed? That is the puzzle," she answered. "If he were not capable there would be none."
"I should do better, I am sure, if I could," said Vavasor. Had he known himself, he ought to have added, "without trouble."
"Then you think we are all just like the dog-fish—except that destiny has made none of us quite so ugly," rejoined Hester.
"Or so selfish," implemented Vavasor.
"That I can't see," returned Hester. "If we are merely borne helpless hither and thither on the tide of impulse, we can be neither more nor less selfish than the dog-fish. We are, in fact, neither selfish nor unselfish. We are pure nothings, concerning which speculation is not worth the trouble. But the very word selfish implies a contrary judgment on the part of humanity itself."
"Then you believe we can make ourselves different from what we are made?"
"Yes; we are made with the power to change. We are meant to take a share in our own making. We are made so and so, it is true, but not made so and so only; we are made with a power in ourselves beside—a power that can lay hold on the original power that made us. We are not made to remain as we are. We are bound to grow."
She spoke rapidly, with glowing eyes, the fire of her utterance consuming every shadow of the didactic.
"You are too much of a philosopher for me, Miss Raymount," said Vavasor with a smile. "But just answer me one question. What if a man is too weak to change?"