She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. ‘And I’d like to know what the devil—’ ‘Out of town?’ repeated Melusine, stupefied. 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. Until then we mean to keep on hammering away. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants.
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