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She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. The lady grasped it more firmly and turned it upon Hilary. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you. A sacrifice. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. The Red Room. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. You need not tell me, but a lawyer is different. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile. 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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