Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. ‘That is settled then. You have all the instinctive dexterity of parasites. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness.
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