When we had quietly settled ourselves for the few hours left till day, the rain began to fall heavily.
While Father Renaudin and Regan were at the table before the door, looking over maps, I sat beside Isabella and we were speaking of the change which we had made in the star.
“If these people could not fly, they would work slower. They are living machines; don’t you think so?” said Isabella.
“Certainly their wings are a great advantage,” replied I.
“Do you know what Regan has done about the wings?” asked Isabella.
“No.”
“Then he has not told you?”
“No.”
“He calls them ‘hideous deformities,’ ‘cumbersome appendages.’”
“Yes; I know he doesn’t like the powerful wings of the people. But what is it, Isabella?”