"I am very foolish to talk so much," she said. "I do not know why I do. Somehow I think it is your fault, Mr. Dillwyn. I am not in the habit, I think, of holding forth so to people who ought to know better than myself."
"I am sure you are aware that I was speaking honestly, and that I do not know better?" he said.
"I suppose I thought so," Lois answered. "But that does not quite excuse me. Only—I was sorry for you, Mr. Dillwyn."
"Thank you. Now, may I go on? The conversation can hardly be so interesting to you as it is to me."
"I think I have said enough," said Lois, a little shyly.
"No, not enough, for I want to know more. The sentence you quoted from Foster, if it is true, is overwhelming. If it is true, it leaves all the world with terrible arrears of obligation."
"Yes," Lois answered half reluctantly,—"duty unfulfilled is terrible. But, not 'all the world,' Mr. Dillwyn."
"You are an exception."
"I did not mean myself. I do not suppose I do all I ought to do. I do try to do all I know. But there are a great many beside me, who do better."
"You agree then, that one is not bound by duties unknown?"