“But Mr. Brachey...” She couldn't go on with this. The conversation was growing rather alarming.
“So are the Americans polygamous. And the other white peoples. Only they call it by other names. You get tired of it. The Chinese are more honest.”
“I wonder,” said she, suddenly steady and shrewd, “if you haven't stayed away too long.”
His reply was:
“Perhaps.”
“If you live—you know, all by yourself, and for nobody in the world except yourself—I mean, if there's nobody you're responsible for, nobody you love and take care of and suffer for...” The sentence was getting something involved. She paused, puckering her brows.
“Well?” said he.
“Why, I only meant, isn't there danger of a person like that becoming—well, just selfish.”
“I am selfish.”
“But you don't want to be.”