Only the strong
could inherit the earth. She had been born of the strong, and she
chose to cast her lot with the strong.
Yet of all creatures, she was the last to be deaf and blind to the
things of the spirit. But the things of the spirit she demanded should
be likewise strong. No halting, no stuttered utterance, tremulous
waiting, minor wailing! The mind and the soul must be as quick and
definite and certain as the body. Nor was the spirit made alone for
immortal dreaming. Like the flesh, it must strive and toil. It must
be workaday as well as idle day. She could understand a weakling
singing sweetly and even greatly, and in so far she could love him for
his sweetness and greatness; but her love would have fuller measure
were he strong of body as well. She believed she was just. She gave
the flesh its due and the spirit its due; but she had, over and above,
her own choice, her own individual ideal. She liked to see the two go
hand in hand. Prophecy and dyspepsia did not affect her as a
felicitous admixture. A splendid savage and a weak-kneed poet! She
could admire the one for his brawn and the other for his song; but she
would prefer that they had been made one in the beginning.
As to Vance Corliss. First, and most necessary of all, there was that
physiological affinity between them that made the touch of his hand a
pleasure to her.
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