Part 49 (1/2)
”No,” he said slowly and deliberately. ”No; that has never been my standpoint.”
”Then you refuse the good things of life when they come your way?”
”Good is a very elastic word.”
He was fencing, and she realised it. With a subtle change of tone, she made a fresh essay.
”Isn't the meaning of every word merely a matter of inflexion?”
He hesitated.
”I--I suppose so,” he admitted guardedly.
She smiled suddenly, looking up into his face.
”Then to me, the word 'good' means all that is warm and light and happy. And to you, it means something cold--or unattainable?”
”Indeed no! You have made a wrong deduction.”
”Well, what does it mean to you?”
”Mean? I--I am not sure that I can tell you.”
”Perhaps you have not found the meaning?”
”Perhaps not.”
”But you are seeking for it?”
He laughed a little constrainedly.
”I may be--unconsciously.”
Again she averted her eyes, and turned towards the mysterious ca.n.a.l.
”Now I understand one thing!” she said in a soft, slow voice.
”What is that?” Gore was curious, despite himself.
”Why they call you 'Sir Galahad'?”
There was a moment of silence. His face flushed, then turned cold.
”Indeed!” he said stiffly. ”And, if it is not indiscreet, may I ask who calls me 'Sir Galahad'?”
At the tone of his voice, Clodagh wheeled round.
”Didn't you know?” she asked. ”I thought--oh, I was sure you knew----”