In the fields between them and Marlow they could see here and there little figures stooping and straightening. "Ooh!" exclaimed Millie, suddenly. "What?" asked Blanche. "There's another man," said Millie, pointing. "We'd better scoot!" But they made no attempt to put such an impossible plan into action. The man had evidently seen them. He was coming towards them across one of the fields, shouting to attract their attention. "Hi! wait a minute!" they thought he was saying. "Mill!" exclaimed Blanche, with extraordinary emphasis. "What?" asked Millie, nervously. She was flushed and trembling. "Do you see who it is?" "It isn't the one out of the carriage...." hesitated Millie. "No! Silly. It's that young fellow who used to live with us, our Mr Fastidious. What was his name? Thrale! You remember." "Goody!" said Millie. She was conscious of a quite inexplicable feeling of disappointment. "He iss a friend? Yes?" asked Mrs Isaacson. BOOK III WOMANKIND IN THE MAKING XVII--LONDON TO MARLOW 1 The history of mankind is the history of human law. The larger ordinances of the universe are commonly referred to some superior lawgiver, under such names as God and physico-chemical action; names which appear mutually subversive only to the bigot, whether theologian or biologist. These larger ordinances sometimes appear inflexible, as in the domain of physics and chemistry, sometimes empirical as in the development of species, but we may believe that if they change at all, the period of change is so great as to be outside any possibility of observation by a few thousand generations of mankind. Human law, on the other hand, is tentative, without sound precedent and in its very nature mutable. In our miserably limited record of history, that paltry ten thousand years which is but a single tick of the cosmic watch, we have been unable to formulate any overruling law to which other laws are subject. Climate, race and condition impose certain limitations, and within that enceinte civilizations have developed a system of rules, increasing always in complexity, and have then failed to maintain their place in the competitive struggle. It has been rashly suggested that the overriding law of laws is that rigidity is fatal to the nation. An analogy has been found in the growth of the child. Here and there some bold spirit has ventured the daring hypothesis that if a young child be confined within a perfectly fitting iron shell he will not grow. Such speculations, however, do not appeal to mankind as a whole. Perhaps the truth of the matter is that nothing appals us so much as the idea that man is capable of growth. Is it not inconceivable that any race of men could be wiser, more perfect than ourselves?