Caius had one virtue in these days: he did not admire anything that he did, and he did not even think much about the self he scorned.

With regard to Josephine, he felt that if her philosophy of life were true it was not for him to presume to pity her.

So vividly had she brought her conception of the use of life before him that it was stamped upon his mind in a brief series of pictures, clear, indelible; and the last picture was one of which he could not think clearly, but it produced in him an idea of the after-life which he had not before.
Then he thought again of the cloud under which Josephine was entering.
Her decision would in all probability cut down her bright, useful life to a few short years of struggle and shame and sorrow.

At last he spoke: "But why do you think it right to sacrifice yourself to this man?
It does not seem to me right." He knew then what clearness of thought she had, for she looked with almost horror in her face.
"Sacrifice myself for Le Maitre! Oh no! I should have no right to do that; but to the ideal right, to God--yes.

If I withheld anything from God, how could I win my soul ?" "But how do you know God requires this ?" "Ah! I told you before.