She could not speak. " "I am at a loss to understand you Sir,", said Trenchard. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. I am going to smoke a little here, and then I shall go to the study. 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 blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally.
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