“You love some one else?” he repeated. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. ” He said flatly. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No.
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