But Mrs. Jackson saw only hardness of heart in the grave face; she never dreamed that behind those quiet eyes was a turmoil of discordant passions, tearing, rending, burning.
"I'm sorry for you," she repeated. "I think it's very sad, very sad indeed, that you should stand there and boast of the sluggishness of your conscience. Conscience is the voice of God, Captain Parsons; if it does not speak to you, it behoves others to speak in its place."
"And supposing I knew what you wanted to say, do you think I should like to hear?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Then don't you think discretion points to silence?"
"No, Captain Parsons. There are some things which one is morally bound to say, however distasteful they may be."
"The easiest way to get through life is to say pleasant things on all possible occasions."
"That is not my way, and that is not the right way."
"I think it rash to conclude that a course is right merely because it is difficult. Likewise an uncivil speech is not necessarily a true one."
"I repeat that I did not come here to bandy words with you."