th feigned maidenly
piquancy and many reproachful glances, she went out laughing good
humoredly.

He was good natured, and when she was gone he laughed boyishly.

Good nature is one of the virtues of impurity.

Still giggling she set the tray down in the kitchen and told
Cook-mother Charity about it. That worthy woman gave her a warning
look and said:

"The frisk'ness of this new gen'ration of niggers makes me tired.
Better let Marse Dick alone--he's a dan'g'us man with women."

In the dining-room Travis sat quiet and thoughtful. He was a
handsome man, turning forty. His face was strong, clean shaved,
except a light mustache, with full sensual lips and an unusually fine
brow. It was the brow of intellect--all in front. Behind and above
there was no loftiness of ideality or of veneration. His smile was
constant, and though slightly cold, was always approachable. His
manner was decisive, but clever always, and kind-hearted at times.

Contrary to his habit, he grew reminiscent. He despised this kind of
a mood, because, as he said, "It is the weakness of a fool to think
about himself." He walked to the window and looked out on the broad
fields of The Gaffs in the valley before him. He looked at the
handsomely furnished room and thought of the splendid old home. Then
he deliberately surveyed himself in the mirror. He smiled:

"'Survival of the fittest'--yes, Spencer is right--a great--great
mind. He is living now, and the world, of course, will not admit his
greatness until he is dead. Life, like the bull that would rule the
herd, is never ready to admit that other life is great. A poet is
always a dead rhymester,--a philosopher, a dead dreamer.

"Let Spencer but die!

"Tush! Why indulge in weak modesty and fool self-depreciation? Even
instinct tells me--that very lowest of animal intellectual
forces--that I survive because I am stronger than the dead.
Providence--God--whatever it is, has nothing to do with it except to
start you and let you survive by overcoming. Winds you up and
then--devil take the hindmost!

"It is brains--brains--brains that count--brains first and always.
This moral stuff is fit only for those who are too weak to
conquer. I have accomplished everything in life I have ever
undertaken--everything--and--by brains! Not once have I failed--I have
done it by intellect, courage--intuition--the thing in one that speaks.

"Now as to things of the heart,"--he stopped suddenly--he even
scowled half