"It's a hideous impossibility."
"The hideousness isn't ours. It isn't impossible."
"Decide—can't you?" Barclay flung at them.
Tristram turned to him with a gesture of immeasurable contempt.
"So you betray all your masters?" he said.
"I am the son of a betrayal," Barclay retorted, smiling bitterly. "Has that ever troubled you? Why trouble yourself now about me?"
Sigrid's eyes avoided Tristram's face. The grey horror of it shook her.
"It's as Mr. Barclay says—we've only got to consider our own actions."
"Then you've decided?"
"Is there any choice?" she asked sternly.