He stopped for a moment and stood calmly watching her. No need now to use violence against those despairing voices in the background of his thoughts; they had been hushed by the strength of a determination no longer hot with the joy of self-discovery but taking on already something of the chill irrevocability of age. He watched Beatrice almost with amusement; he knew so well what futile struggles were going on within her. He had no more doubt of the outcome now than he had of his own determination.
"It all sounds very well, James," she answered at last, "but it won't do. I couldn't do it. Marriage...."
"Well?"
"Marriage is an ideal, you know, as well as—as a contract. I can't—I won't have one without the other."
"You are very particular. People as unpopular with chance as we are can't afford to be particular."
"It would be false to—to—oh, I don't know how to put it! To the best in life."
"Has the best in life been true to you?"
"You are so bitter!"
"Hasn't one the right to be, sometimes? God—fate—what you call ideals—have their responsibilities, even to us. What claim have all those things got on us now?"
"I choose to follow them still!"