Her gesture of dissent was almost peremptory.

"No!"

The monosyllable had a sting which surprised him.

"Tell me what it is?" he begged.

She opened her lips and closed them again. He saw then the rising and
falling of her bosom underneath that black stuff gown. She stretched
out her hand towards the gardens. Somehow or other, she seemed to grow
taller.

"I do not understand this," she said. "I do not understand your being
here, one of them, dressed like them, speaking their language, sharing
their luxuries. It is a great blow to me. It is perhaps because I am
foolish, but it tortures me!"

"But isn't that a little unreasonable?" he asked her quietly. "To
accomplish anything in this world, it is necessary to know more than one
side of life."

"But this--this," she cried hysterically, "is the side which has made
our blood boil for generations! These women in silk and laces, these
idle, pleasure-loving men, this eating and drinking, this luxury in
beautiful surroundings, with ears deafened to all the mad, sobbing cries
of the world! This is their life day by day. You have been in the
wilderness, you have seen the life of those others, you have the feeling
for them in your heart. Can you sit at table with these people and wear
their clothes, and not feel like a hypocrite?"