"It wouldn't do," she said again. "I couldn't let you."
"I can do anything I choose. Your little hands can't stop me."
She looked at him gravely. "Why do you choose it?"
"Because I can choose nothing else."
"Ah, why are you so good to me?"
"Because"—he mocked her absurd intonation.
"Don't tell me. It's because you are good. You can't help it."
"No; I can't help it."
"But—" she objected, "I'm so horrid. I don't believe in God and I say damn when I'm angry."
"I heard you."