“No,” I said decidedly, “that’s not my way.”
A thread of smoke ascended from Ewart for a while, like smoke from an altar.
“Everything’s a muddle, and you think it isn’t. Nobody knows where we are—because, as a matter of fact we aren’t anywhere. Are women property—or are they fellow-creatures? Or a sort of proprietary goddesses? They’re so obviously fellow-creatures. You believe in the goddess?”
“No,” I said, “that’s not my idea.”
“What is your idea?”
“Well”
“H’m,” said Ewart, in my pause.
“My idea,” I said, “is to meet one person who will belong to me—to whom I shall belong—body and soul. No half-gods! Wait till she comes. If she comes at all.... We must come to each other young and pure.”
“There’s no such thing as a pure person or an impure person.... Mixed to begin with.”
This was so manifestly true that it silenced me altogether.