She has evolved a theory of her own about that.
It partakes of Buddhism. After I have discussed metaphysical
propositions with her over which she will argue clearly, she will
suddenly cut the whole knot with a lightning flash, and you see the
naked truth, and words become meaningless, and discussion a jest."
"All this, at fifteen!" John Derringham laughed antagonistically, and
then he suddenly remembered her words to himself upon honor in the tree
that summer morning three years ago, and he mused.
Perhaps some heaven-taught beings were allowed to come to earth after
all, now and then as the centuries rolled on.
"She knows Greek pretty well?" he asked.
"Fairly, for the time she has learnt. She can read me bits of Lucian.
She would stumble over the tragedies. I read them to her." Then he
continued, as though it were a subject he loved, "She has a concrete
view upon every question; her critical faculty is marvelous. She never
lays down the law, but if you ask her, you have your answer in a
nutshell, the simplest truth, which it always appears to her so strange
that you have not seen all the time.
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