Miss Annabel is her sister. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. Could she go through with it? She must. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. But recently he had asked God to pile it all on him; and God had added this, with a fresh portion for Ruth. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. Oh! that Mr. ” “I positively insist upon knowing,” she declared cheerfully. He was in the house with his mother. 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 and Courtlaw drove homewards together.
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