As a child Christina had been very much disliked by other children. She had never suffered particularly because of this, having led, even at a very early age, an active inner life that curtailed her observation of whatever went on around her, to such a degree that she never picked up the mannerisms then in vogue, and at the age of ten was called old-fashioned by other little girls. Even then she wore the look of certain fanatics who think of themselves as leaders without once having gained the respect of a single human being.
“Since you live so far out of town,” said Arnold, “why don’t you spend the night at my house? We have an extra bedroom.”
“I probably shall,” said Miss Goering, “although it is against my entire code, but then, I have never even begun to use my code, although I judge everything by it.”
“You’re crazy,” said Andy, “you’re crazy and monstrous–really monstrous. You are committing a monstrous act.”
“Well,” said Miss Goering, “perhaps my maneuvers do seem a little strange, but I have thought for a long time now that often, so very often, heroes who believe themselves to be monsters because they are so far removed from other men turn around much later and see really monstrous acts being committed in the name of something mediocre.”
From Two Serious Ladies (4)
A. A. Knopf, 1943
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