"I don't want you to feel that I'm bitter against these people personally—it's all for what they signify. Why should they be handsome and strong and well dressed and—have good manners ... and I have none of those things? They've had everything, and I—usually I'm a philosopher ... funny, isn't it, that a perfectly sound philosophy should get drowned in such a little thing as a finger-bowl."
"Why should we have all those things?" she asked thoughtfully, more to herself than to him. He turned around at that, and studied her.
"I've often wondered if you'd ever say that?" he said.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I've said it often—lately."
"And what is the answer?"
"I don't know."
"And that's the right one. Nobody does."
"It is unjust and wrong. I can't get away from that. But what to do—I don't know that."
"Go sell what thou hast ... and come follow me," said Good slowly, as if merely repeating a formula, and not caring whether she heard or not. It struck her as curious that that should have been the text of the first sermon she had ever heard Imrie preach.
"Suppose I did—give up all?" she asked.