“You wouldn’t do that, Diana, if you were driving with a strange man—would you?” he asked anxiously, handing her the shoe.
“I might—but of course I should have to marry him—according to your creed. The world of your making, Marcus, must be a very dangerous place to live in. It must be difficult in your world to avoid pitfalls. The sins are many. In a world of my making there would be sins, of course,—lying and cheating, meanness,—they should be great sins. Greater sins should be jealousy—unkindness to children—and that’s all for to-day, thank you.”
“My dear Diana, there is a very big sin about which you probably know nothing and it has its beginnings in what you call—”
Diana laid her hand on his. “Marcus,” she said, “think, wouldn’t the sin of which you are thinking come under the head possibly of unkindness to children—?”
“My dear child, your ideas are very curious.”
“Do you think so?”
“Tell me what you think about things. I know so little of young people.”
“What can I tell? My religion? I am a broad-minded Christian.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Of course, I know that, dear child.”
“Which?”