But alas, it was just too late. In some strange way Somers felt he had come to the end of transports: they had no more mystery for him; at least this kind: or perhaps no more charm. Some bubble or other had burst in his heart. All his body and fibres wanted to go over and touch the other great being into a storm of response. But his soul wouldn’t. The coloured bubble had burst. Kangaroo sat up and adjusted his eyeglasses. “Don’t you run away with the idea, though,” he said, “that I am just an emotional fool.” His voice was almost menacing, and with a strange cold, intellectual quality that Somers had never heard before. “I believe in the one fire of love. I believe it is the one inspiration of all creative activity. I trust myself entirely to the fire of love. This I do with my reason also. I don’t discard my reason. I use it at the service of love, like a sharp weapon. I try to keep it very sharp--and very dangerous. Where I don’t love, I use only my will and my wits. Where I love, I trust to love alone.” The voice came cold and static. Somers sat rather blank. The change frightened him almost as something obscene. This was the reverse to the passionate thunder-god. “But is love the only inspiration of creative activity?” he asked, rather feebly. “This is the first time I have heard it questioned. Do you know of any other?” Somers thought he did, but he was not going to give himself away to that sharp weapon of a voice, so he did not answer. “_Is_ there any other inspirational force than the force of love?” continued Kangaroo. “There is no other. Love makes the trees flower and shed their seed, love makes the animals mate and birds put on their best feather, and sing their best songs. And all that man has ever created on the face of the earth, or ever will create--if you will allow me the use of the word create, with regard to man’s highest productive activities.” “It’s the word I always use myself,” said Somers. “Naturally, since you know how to think inspiredly. Well then, all that man ever has created or ever will create, while he remains man, has been created in the inspiration and by the force of love. And not only man--all the living creatures are swayed to creation, to new creation, to the creation of song and beauty and lovely gesture, by love. I will go further. I believe the sun’s attraction for the earth is a form of love.” “Then why doesn’t the earth fly into the sun?” said Somers.