All of it, as it appealed to him, was the story of steady evolution, the natural processes of reproduction, the joy of life and its battles, and the conquest of the strong in nature.

At his hands every sound was stripped of terror.

The leaping bass was exulting in life, the screeching owl was telling its mate it had found a fat mouse for the children, the nighthawk was courting, the big bull frogs booming around the lake were serenading the moon.

There was not a thing to fear or a voice left with an unsympathetic note in it.

She was half asleep when at last he helped her to her room, set a pitcher of frosty, clinking drink on her table, locked her door and window screens inside, spread Belshazzar's blanket on her porch, and set his door wide open, that he might hear if she called, and then said good night and went back to his memorandum book.
"No bad beginning," he muttered softly, "no bad beginning, but I'd almost give my right hand if she hadn't forgotten----" In her room the exhausted Girl slipped the pins from her hair and sank on the low chair before the dressing-table.