Mr. Stone's gaze was fixed intently on the wall.
"The dog," he said, "has lost much of its primordial character."
And, moving to his desk, he took up his quill pen.
Hilary and Bianca made no sound, nor did they look at one another; and in this silence, so much more full of meaning than any talk, the scratching of the quill went on. Mr. Stone put it down at last, and, seeing two persons in the room, read:
"'Looking back at those days when the doctrine of evolution had reached its pinnacle, one sees how the human mind, by its habit of continual crystallisations, had destroyed all the meaning of the process. Witness, for example, that sterile phenomenon, the pagoda of 'caste'! Like this Chinese building, so was Society then formed. Men were living there in layers, as divided from each other, class from class---'" He took up the quill, and again began to write.
"You understand, I suppose," said Hilary in a low voice, "that she has been told not to come?"
With a most unwonted look of anger, he added:
"Is it within the scope of your generosity to credit me with the desire to meet your wishes?"