Hill lost a little of his truculency. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. 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. ‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand. At other times he seemed to have regained the normal completely. “You have them both,” Anna answered. He had looked at it before without comprehension.
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