“And giraffes. They were nomadic, you see. It wasn’t till they settled down in communities, and women did one kind of thing and men another that women got weak. And of course, underneath, one is still the same⁠—one feels the same, I mean, and that is why women worship physical strength in men⁠—it’s what they once had and have lost.”

“Almost ancestor worship, in fact?”

“Something of the kind.”

“And you really think that’s true? That women worship strength, I mean?”

“I think it’s quite true⁠—if one’s honest. You think you admire moral qualities, but when you fall in love, you revert to the primitive where the physical is all that counts. But I don’t think that’s the end⁠—if you lived in primitive conditions it would be all right, but you don’t⁠—and so, in the end, the other thing wins after all. It’s the things that are apparently conquered that always do win, isn’t it? They win in the only way that counts. Like what the Bible says about losing your soul and finding it.”

“In the end,” said Colonel Race thoughtfully, “you fall in love⁠—and you fall out of it, is that what you mean?”

“Not exactly, but you can put it that way if you like.”

“But I don’t think you’ve ever fallen out of love, Miss Anne?”

“No, I haven’t,” I admitted frankly.

“Or fallen in love, either?”