"Then you refuse the good things of life when they come your way?"
"Good is a very elastic word."
He was fencing, and she realised it. With a subtle change of tone, she made a fresh essay.
"Isn't the meaning of every word merely a matter of inflexion?"
He hesitated.
"I—I suppose so," he admitted guardedly.
She smiled suddenly, looking up into his face.
"Then to me, the word 'good' means all that is warm and light and happy. And to you, it means something cold—or unattainable?"
"Indeed no! You have made a wrong deduction."
"Well, what does it mean to you?"