There was something new in the tone of Doctor Mary's
voice; not only friendliness, though that was there, but a note of
excitement, of enjoyment, as though she also were not superior to the
pleasure of having the laugh of people. "But it's rather straining a
point to say that--and nothing more. I could do it only if you made me
feel that I could trust you absolutely."
Beaumaroy made a little grimace, and waited for her to develop
her subject.
"Your morality is different from most people's, and from mine. Mine is
conventional."
"Conventual!" Beaumaroy murmured.
"Yours isn't. It's all personal with you. You recognize no rights in
people whom you don't like, or who you think aren't deserving, or haven't
earned rights. And you don't judge your own rights by what the law gives
you, either. The right of conquest you called it; you hold yourself free
to exercise that against everybody, except your friends, and against
everybody in the interest of your friends--like poor Mr. Saffron. I
believe you'd do the same for me if I asked you to."
"I'm glad you believe that, Doctor Mary.
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