"It's no use comforting her with Niebuhr now.

She's got a live Camillus in her brain, and there he'll stick." Tracy began to mutter the emphatic D.; quite cognizant of her case, as he supposed.

This intensity of human emotion about a dry faggot of history by no means surprised him; and he was as tender to the grief of his darling little friend as if he had known the conflict that tore her in two.

Subsequently he related the incident, in a tone of tender delight, to Wilfrid, whom it smote.

"Am I a brute ?" asked the latter of the Intelligences in the seat of his consciousness, and they for the moment gravely affirmed it.