Antonia swung her foot.
“How can he help wanting to?”
“He may have a different philosophy of life.”
Antonia was slow to answer.
“I know nothing about philosophies of life,” she said at last.
Shelton answered coldly,
“No two people have the same.”
With the falling sun-glow the charm passed off the tree. Chilled and harder, yet less deep, it was no more a block of woven colour, warm and impassive, like a southern goddess; it was now a northern tree, with a grey light through its leaves.
“I don't understand you in the least,” she said; “everyone wishes to be good.”
“And safe?” asked Shelton gently.