ul picture came, the long, white, girl-shape
shooting earthwards, the ghastly, tortured face, the frenzied, heaving
shoulders. It was to come again many times in the next week, that
picture, and for years to make recurrent horror in his sleep.

He returned to the camp white, wrung, and weak. Apparently his
companions had been busy at their various occupations. Nobody had seen
Julia's fall; at least nobody mentioned it. After dinner, when the
nightly argument broke into its first round, he was silent for a while.
Then, "Oh, I might as well tell you, Frank, and you, Pete," he said
abruptly, "that I've gone over to the other side. I'm for capture,
friendship by capture, marriage by capture--whatever you choose to call
it--but capture."

The other four stared at him. "What's happened to you and Ju--" Honey
began. But he stopped, flushing.

Billy paid no attention to the bitten-off end of Honey's question.
"Nothing's happened to me," he lied simply and directly. "I don't know
why I've changed, but I have. I think this is a case where the end
justifies the means. Women don't know what's best for them. We do.
Unguided, they take the awful risks of their awful ignorance. Moreover,
they are the conservative sex. They have no conscious initiative. These
flying-women, for instance, have plenty of physical courage but no
mental or moral courage. They hold the whip-hand, of course, now.
Anything might happen to them. This situation will prolong itself
indefinitely unless--unless we beat their cunning by our strategy." He
paused. "I don't think they're competent to take care of themselves.
I think it's our duty to take care of them. I think the sooner--." He
paused again. "At the same time, I'm prepared to keep to our agreement.
I won't take a step in this matter until we've all come round to it."

"If it wasn't for their wings," Honey said.

Billy shuddered violently. "If it wasn't for their wings," he agreed.

Frank bore Billy's defection in the spirit of classic calm with which he
accepted everything. But Pete could not seem to reconcile himself to it.
He was constantly trying to draw Billy into debate.

"I won't argue the matter, Pete," Billy said again and again. "I can't
argue it. I don't pretend even to myself that I'm reasonable or logical,
or just or ethical. It's only a feeling or an instinct. But it's too
strong for me. I can't fight it. It's as if I'd taken a journey drugged
and blindfolded. I don't know how I got