\" Michelle laughed. ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Why should some things and not others open the deeps?” “Well, that might, after all, be an outcome of selection—like the preference for blue flowers, which are not nearly so bright as yellow, of some insects. Vee’s all right. Her anger died and she eyed him. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. I hope we may never find her again. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. “Thank you both for treating me for all the world like I was your child. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites.
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