I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. "Fifty now and fifty when I return. Her mind had been and was full of the thought of Capes, a huge generalized Capes-lover. 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. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. "You've won your wager. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too.
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