The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. 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. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. CHAPTER XXVII. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born.
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