Somehow she seemed to be a part of that abstraction, that intoxication, in which he had just been drowning his accumulated anxieties.

Not that Virginie Poucette was logical or philosophical, or a child of thought, for she was wholly the opposite-practical, sensuous, emotional, a child of nature and of Eve.

But neither was Jean Jacques a real child of thought, though he made unconscious pretence of it.

He also was a child of nature--and Adam.

He thought he had the courage of his convictions, but it was only the courage of his emotions.