“No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall. S. I will permit you to rescue me. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder. 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.
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