The child was still safe. She gloried in it: he needed her. Wood hadn't struck me. Utter silence answered him. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. “I must explain to her. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. 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. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. "Neither man nor woman shall apply that term to me. I worshipped her and subdued myself. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony.
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