'But it's in my blood and bones, the joy of it, Althea.

You wouldn't, seriously, ask me to give it up for a whim ?' 'Oh, it isn't a whim.' 'A theory, then.' 'I think you ought to give it up for a theory like that one.

Yes, I even think that you ought to give it up to please me.' 'But why shouldn't you give up your theory to please me ?' He had turned his eyes on his papers now, and was feigning to scan them.
'It is a question of right and wrong to me.' Gerald was silent for a moment.

He was not irritated, she saw that; not angry.

He quite recognised her point, and he didn't like her the less for holding to it; but he recognised his own point just as clearly, and, after the little pause, she found that he was resolute in holding to it.
'I'm afraid I can't give it up--even to please you, dear,' he said.
Althea sat looking down at the papers that lay on the table; she saw them through tears of helpless pain.