Angel Island

And then Billy knew.

He stood moveless staring up at her; never, perhaps, had human eyes

asked so definite a question or begged so definite a boon.

She sat moveless, staring straight down at him. But her eyes continued

to withhold all answer, all reassurance.

After a while, she stirred and the spell broke. She opened and shut her

wings, half a dozen times before she ventured to leave her perch. But

once, in the air, all her strength, physical and mental, seemed to come

back. She shook the hair out of her eyes. She pulled her drapery

together. For a moment, she lingered near, floating, almost moveless,

white, shining, carved, chiseled: like a marvelous piece of aerial

sculpture. Then a flush of a delicate dawn-pink came into her white

face. She caught the great tumbled mass of hair in both hands, tied it

about her head. Swift as a flash of lightning, she turned, wheeled,

soared, dipped. And for the first time, Billy heard her laugh. Her

laughter was like a child's - gleeful. But each musical ripple thrust

like a knife into his heart.

He watched her cleave the distance, watched her disappear. Then,

suddenly, a curious weakness came over him. His head swam and he could

not see distinctly. Every bone in his body seemed to repudiate its

function; his flexed muscles slid him gently to the earth. Time passed.

After a while consciousness came back. His dizziness ceased. But he lay

for a long while, face downward, his forehead against the cool moss.

Again and again that awful picture came, the long, white, girl-shape

shooting earthwards, the ghastly, tortured face, the frenzied, heaving

shoulders. It was to come again many times in the next week, that

picture, and for years to make recurrent horror in his sleep.

He returned to the camp white, wrung, and weak. Apparently his

companions had been busy at their various occupations. Nobody had seen

Julia's fall; at least nobody mentioned it. After dinner, when the

nightly argument broke into its first round, he was silent for a while.

Then, "Oh, I might as well tell you, Frank, and you, Pete," he said

abruptly, "that I've gone over to the other side. I'm for capture,

friendship by capture, marriage by capture - whatever you choose to call

it - but capture."

The other four stared at him. "What's happened to you and Ju - " Honey

began. But he stopped, flushing.

Billy paid no attention to the bitten-off end of Honey's question.

"Nothing's happened to me," he lied simply and directly. "I don't know

why I've changed, but I have. I think this is a case where the end

justifies the means. Women don't know what's best for them. We do.

Unguided, they take the awful risks of their awful ignorance. Moreover,

they are the conservative sex. They have no conscious initiative. These

flying-women, for instance, have plenty of physical courage but no

mental or moral courage. They hold the whip-hand, of course, now.

Anything might happen to them. This situation will prolong itself

indefinitely unless - unless we beat their cunning by our strategy." He

paused. "I don't think they're competent to take care of themselves. I

think it's our duty to take care of them. I think the sooner - ." He

paused again. "At the same time, I'm prepared to keep to our agreement.

I won't take a step in this matter until we've all come round to it."