e Derek and I were sitting in that field this
morning, a bumblebee flew to the bank and tucked its head into the
grass and went to sleep, just tired out with flying and working at its
flowers; it simply snoozed its head down and went off. We ought to live
every minute to the utmost, and when we're tired out, tuck in our heads
and sleep.... If only Derek is not brooding over that poor man! Poor
man--all alone in the dark, with months of misery before him! Poor soul!
Oh! I am sorry for all the unhappiness of people! I can't bear to think
of it. I simply can't." And dropping her pen, Nedda went again to her
window and leaned out. So sweet the air smelled that it made her ache
with delight to breathe it in. Each leaf that lived out there, each
flower, each blade of grass, were sworn to conspiracy of perfume. And
she thought: 'They MUST all love each other; it all goes together so
beautifully!' Then, mingled with the incense of the night, she caught
the savor of woodsmoke. It seemed to make the whole scent even more
delicious, but she thought, bewildered: 'Smoke! Cruel fire--burning the
wood that once grew leaves like those. Oh! it IS so mixed!' It was a
thought others have had before her.

CHAPTER XXIV

To see for himself how it fared with the big laborer at the hands of
Preliminary Justice, Felix went into Transham with Stanley the following
morning. John having departed early for town, the brothers had not
further exchanged sentiments on the subject of what Stanley called 'the
kick-up at Joyfields.' And just as night will sometimes disperse the
brooding moods of nature, so it had brought to all three the feeling:
'Haven't we made too much of this? Haven't we been a little extravagant,
and aren't we rather bored with the whole subject?' Arson was arson; a
man in prison more or less was a man in prison more or less! This was
especially Stanley's view, and he took the opportunity to say to Felix:
"Look here, old man, the thing is, of course, to see it in proportion."

It was with this intention, therefore, that Felix entered the building
where the justice of that neighborhood was customarily dispensed. It was
a species of small hall, somewhat resembling a chapel, with distempered
walls, a platform, and benches for the public, rather well filled
that morning--testimony to the stir the little affair had made. Felix,
familiar with the appearance of London police courts, noted the
efforts that had been made to create resem