“I want not to think of objects good and worthy. Why should I? That isn’t my aim; that is not what is called my métier in life.”
I sighed.
“You have made me so happy that I should be happy to do what I could to please you, and to bring that one very slow smile to your so grave face, and to let your eyes open wide and look into my face so that I should see the lurking goodness within, but it is too troublesome.”
“Riki, there is something I must say to you.”
“Why that tone of suffering? I hope it isn’t of the so disagreeable nature.”
“I can’t help it if it is. Do you know that you have done something very wrong?”
She clasped her hands and looked at me with sad pathos.
“Why speak of that?” she said. “Is it to be expected that I should always do what we call right?”
“Not always; but it is expected of every one to be straight and upright and above anything mean. A girl of honour always expects to be that.”
“Would you mind very much if you were to repeat once more your so difficult remark?”