“That's odd too.”
“Yes,” said Annie anxiously. “You can impose an obligation, he says, but you can't create sympathy. Of course Ralph exaggerates what I said about him in connection with the invited dance and supper, though I don't justify what I did say; and if I'd known then, as I do now, what his history had been, I should have been more careful in my talk with him. I should be very sorry to have hurt his feelings, and I suppose people who've come up in that way are sensitive?”
She suggested this, and it was not the reassurance she was seeking to have Dr. Morrell say, “Naturally.”
She continued with an effort: “I'm afraid I didn't respect his sincerity, and I ought to have done that, though I don't at all agree with him on the other points. It seems to me that what he said was shocking, and perfectly—impossible.”
“Why, what was it?” asked the doctor.
“He said there could be no real kindness between the rich and poor, because all their experiences of life were different. It amounted to saying that there ought not to be any wealth. Don't you think so?”
“Really, I've never thought about it,” returned Dr. Morrell. After a moment he asked, “Isn't it rather an abstraction?”
“Don't say that!” said Annie nervously. “It's the most concrete thing in the world!”
The doctor laughed with enjoyment of her convulsive emphasis; but she went on: “I don't think life's worth living if you're to be shut up all your days to the intelligence merely of your own class.”
“Who said you were?”