“There are a few who, by just going up and down in it, keep the world sweet and clean. Some of the rest could very well be spared.”
“Then you believe that everybody must practically justify his existence?”
“If he fails to do so with us, his existence generally ceases. The wilderness where I found the gold is full of the bones of the unfit.”
Millicent spread out some drawings. Most were in color, in some cases several of the same object, done with patient care, and she was strangely pleased when she saw the quick appreciation in his eyes.
“An otter; it’s alive,” he remarked. “You’ve shown it working through a shallow, looking much less like an animal than a fish—that’s right.”
“I made half a dozen sketches, and I’m not satisfied yet.”
“Thorough,” he commented. “You get there, if you have to hammer the heart out of whatever you’re up against.”
“It’s my brother’s book,” she answered. “I’m finishing it for him. He did other things—most of them useful, indirectly. I’ve only this—and I’d like my part to be good.”
He nodded sympathetically, looking troubled.
“I can understand,” he said. “I had a partner—I owe him more than I could ever have repaid, and he left a troublesome piece of work to me. It will have to be put through. But let me see some more; they’re great.”