something occurred to Ishmael which suddenly puts
a person in a new light--the slipping of the plane, the freakish turn of
the kaleidoscope which makes the new light strike at a fresh angle
something seen before and makes it different. He fell in love with
Georgie in that moment, staring at her bent neck and the curve of her
ear.

All day a delightful exaltation possessed him; he was not yet at the
stage when a man is plagued with doubts of success or advisability; he
was only tingling with a new delight. He helped her along any rough
place when they all walked over to the Vicarage to tea with a joy he had
not felt the day before, and he did not even know how irrational it all
was.

At tea the conversation turned on different types of men, and Killigrew
held forth on what he held to be the only true and vital classification.

"The only division in mankind is the same as the only division in the
animal world, of course," he said.

"What is that?" asked the Parson. "Wild and tame?"

"No; it is the division between the animal who goes with the pack and
him who hunts a solitary trail. The bee is kin to the wolf because both
are subject to a community-life with strict laws. The bee is nearer of
kin to the wolf than it is to the butterfly, which lives to itself
alone. The fox, who hunts and is harried as a solitary, is further
removed from his brother the wolf than he is from the wild cat, who has
like habits to himself. My natural history may be wrong, but you see the
theory!"

"And you carry that into the world of man?" said Judith lightly. In her
heart was a sick pain and anger, and the brightness of the day had fled
for her; with his few careless words Killigrew had re-created all the
old atmosphere of depression, of--"It's no good, I know he's as he is,
and that nothing I can do or that happens to me will ever make him any
different...."

"Certainly it is the great division. Between the born adventurer and the
community-man there is a far greater gulf fixed than between the former
and an eagle or the latter and a cony. Lone trail or circumscribed
hearth--between these lies the only incompatibility."

"There is a good deal in your theory," said Boase, "but it goes too much
for externals. The home-keeping man may be the one with the free spirit
and the wanderer the man who cannot get away from habits that tie him to
other people wherever he goes."

"Sounds like a perambulating bigamist," said Killigrew, laughing