“Because it isn’t a reason,” said Elizabeth. “At least it isn’t properly one. It’s an idea. And—well, anyhow I couldn’t exactly explain it to you.”
“All right,” laughed David. “Well then, it comes to this,—legally the thing is mine. Morally even, I’m not bound to give it up—we’ve allowed that, remember,—but weighing against it is a quite absurd feeling that I’d better give it up. I’m putting aside mere material inclinations. That sums up the case, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” said Elizabeth.
David knocked the ashes from his pipe.
“What would you do?” he asked.
“No,” protested Elizabeth, “that isn’t fair. You’re trying to shift the rôles. Your summing up is merely a repetition of mine. I refuse to act as jury, and pronounce the verdict.”
“The jury always talk the matter over,” said David aggrievedly. “There’s never a jury of one man.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“Oh, well,” she said resignedly.
“Doesn’t it seem an absurd thing to do—to give it up?” queried David.