He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. 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. com/E21or The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ragged Edge, by Harold MacGrath This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. "When I parted from you at Mr. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. "I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. Run along now; but return in half an hour.
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