"And a fatalist, too!"
"Why, of course! Everyone is, to a greater or a less extent, though most dare not admit it!"
"But yesterday you said—what did you say, Paul, about the power of the human will over environment and fate?"
"I don't remember. That was yesterday. I'm not the same to-day, at all. And to-morrow I may be quite different."
"Behold the consistency of man. But Fate, Paul—what makes Fate? I have always been taught to believe that the world is what we make it!"
"And it is true, too, that in a way we may make the world what we will, each creating it anew for himself, after his own pattern—but after all, Opal, that is Fate. For what we are, we put into these worlds of ours, and what we are is what our ancestors have made us—and that is what I understand by destiny."
"Ah, Paul, you have so many noble theories of life."
His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed.
"I thought I had, Opal—till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always choose our paths."
"Can one ever, Paul?"