She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. A nod was exchanged. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. Probably something he had eaten. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature.
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