Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark. “Our interest lies in heading them off. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. What a God-forsaken fool he was! And dimly, out there somewhere in the South Seas—the beach! Already he sensed the fascination of the inevitable; and with this fascination came the idea of haste, to get there quickly and have done. "We shall all be murdered.
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