Annette was not so sure of it! She too was doubtful. It was her mother's daughter who was speaking at this moment, it was not the whole Annette. But she did not wish to admit it, especially to Marcel, and in an argument. She said:
"I wish it."
"Will power in such matters! . . ." exclaimed Marcel, with his shrewd smile. ". . . It is as though one decreed that a red fire should be a green fire. Love is a lighthouse of changing fires."
But Annette obstinately said:
"Not for me! . . . I don't want it to be!"
She was perfectly aware, and with the same conviction, of the need of change and of the need of permanence, those two passionate instincts of all vigorous lives. But, turn and turn about, whichever one of these two felt itself threatened, revolted.
Marcel, being well acquainted with the proud and obstinate girl, bowed politely.
Annette, who judged herself as accurately as he judged her, said a little shamefacedly:
"After all, I shouldn't like . . ."
And, with this concession made to the spirit of truth, she continued more firmly, now feeling herself to be on ground of which she was sure: