"And you think it's inevitable? You think it must always be that? We must be shut in by the stone wall? I would never submit to it—I don't believe in it!"
"Ah, you haven't begun to be middle-aged," said Crayven quietly.
"Don't talk in this way! Why do you want to take all the freedom and joy out of life? You enjoy your life—why do you deny the good of it? You're ungrateful."
"No—I'm not ungrateful. I take the pleasures of the day, and the work of the day, for what they are—that's all. I don't ask much of life."
"Why not? Why don't you? Because you haven't imagination enough—or because you asked too much—and didn't get what you wanted?"
Teresa's questions were impetuous, almost angry. They had never before been so personal in their talk, but often Crayven's attitude had irritated her into protest. With him she felt increasingly a passionate desire to assert the value, the joy, of life.
He reflected, looking up at her.
"I suppose I have not much imagination. But it is true that I did not get what I wanted. It's not that I wanted so very much—perhaps—from an abstract point of view. But I wanted what I wanted very much. … And to be beaten,
