Was it that the struggle of things to survive produced as a sort of necessary byproduct these intense preferences and appreciations, or was it that some mystical outer thing, some great force, drove life beautyward, even in spite of expediency, regardless of survival value and all the manifest discretions of life? She went to Capes with that riddle and put it to him very carefully and clearly, and he talked well—he always talked at some length when she took a difficulty to him—and sent her to a various literature upon the markings of butterflies, the incomprehensible elaboration and splendor of birds of Paradise and hummingbirds’ plumes, the patterning of tigers, and a leopard’s spots. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. Manning central in her mind. She thought about just asking him to take 116 her to his place and get it over with, but she reconsidered and decided to attempt to get to know him better. “You told me that your name was Meysey Hill. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked.
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