on — the stripes, say, of the zebra and tiger that blend so cunningly with the barred and speckled shadowings of bush and jungle, the twig and leaflike shapes and hues of certain insects; in fact, all that natural camouflage which was the basis of the art of concealment so astonishingly developed in the late war.
Like the animals of the wild, the mind of man moves through a jungle — the jungle of life, passing along paths beaten out by the thought of his countless forefathers in their progress from birth to death.
And these paths are bordered and screened, figuratively and literally,Philipp Grubauer Tröjor, with bush and trees of his own selection, setting out and cultivation — shelters of the familiar, the habitual,Menn Moncler Ghislain, the customary.
On these ancestral paths, within these barriers of usage, man moves hidden and secure as the animals in their haunts — or so he thinks.
Outside them lie the wildernesses and the gardens of the unknown, and man’s little trails are but rabbit-runs in an illimitable forest.
But they are home to him!
Therefore it is that he scurries from some open place of revelation, some storm of emotion, some strength-testing struggle, back into the shelter of the obvious; finding it an intellectual environment that demands no slightest expenditure of mental energy or initiative,Chris Chelios Tröjor, strength to sally forth again into the unfamiliar.
I crave pardon for this digression. I set it down because now I remember how, when Drake at last broke the silence that had closed in upon the passing of that still,Andrei Markov Tröjor, small voice the essence of these thoughts occurred to me.
He strode over to the weeping girl, and in his voice was a roughness that angered me until I realized his purpose.
“Get up,Andrew Cogliano Tröjor, Ruth,” he ordered. “He came back once and he’ll come back again. Now let him be and help us get a meal together. I’m hungry.”
She looked up at him, incredulously,Thomas Vanek Tröjor, indignation rising.
“Eat!” she exclaimed. “You can be hungry?”
“You bet I can — and I am,” he answered cheerfully. “Come on; we’ve got to make the best of it.”
“Ruth,” I broke in gently,Erik Gustafsson Tröjor, “we’ll all have to think about ourselves a little if we’re to be of any use to him. You must eat — and then rest.”
“No use crying in the milk even if it’s spilt,” observed Drake,CG Dame Palliser Parka, even more cheerfully brutal. “I learned that at the front where we got so we’d yelp for food even when the lads who’d been bringing it were all mixed up in it.”
She lifted Ventnor’s head from her lap, rested it on the silks; arose,Guy Lafleur Tröjor, eyes wrathful, her little hands closed in fists as though to strike him.
“Oh — you brute!” she whispered. “And I thought — I thought — Oh,CG Menn Chateau Parka, I hate you!”
“That’s better,” said Dick. “Go ahead and hit me if you want. The madder you get the better you’ll feel.”
For a moment I thought she was going to take him at his word; then her anger fled.
“Thanks — Dick,Ty Rattie Tröjor,” she said quietly.
And while I sat studying Ventnor,Canada Goose Lodge Down Hoody Jackor, they put together a meal from the stores, brewed te
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