“Was—?” she said, with insistence. “Was—?”
Robin thought how she had hurt him, and said:
“Carey said, a huge mass of bones, muscles, thews, sinews, that cares nothing for beauty.”
“Beauty! That doesn’t care for beauty! But then—?”
“Carey meant—yes, I’m sure Carey meant real beauty.”
“What do you mean by ‘real beauty’?”
“An inner light that radiates outward, but whose abiding-place is hidden—perhaps. But one can’t say. One can only understand and love.”
“Oh. And Mr. Carey said that. Was he—was he at all that evening as he was at Arkell House? Was he talking nonsense or was he serious?”
“Difficult to say! But he was not as he was at Arkell House. Which knows you best—Carey or I?”
“Neither of you. I don’t know myself.”