What would you? I cannot fight them all. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. But this was a vicomte’s sister. 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 turned in at the club. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. ‘Am I a fool? Can I blow off a head with a pistol which is not loaded?’ ‘She has a point,’ conceded Alderley, relaxing a little as amusement burgeoned again ‘Ten to one she is a French spy,’ burst from Roding. But, if you have come to surrender yourself to justice, it is well. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool.
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