The silence was profound. He could hear the blood circulating in his ears. He could almost hear the trees lifting their tons of sap. Then the silence was broken by the rustling of squirrels. These were chemical machines that captured energy, stored it, transformed it, and dissipated it. They had eight or nine automatic functions, including reproduction. They drew up no contracts to protect their mates from the blind chemical urge. From an upbound steamer came an amorous Hawaiian tune. More dissipation. The sun squanders energy. Earth squanders energy. Men squander energy, and have been doing nothing else since they lighted the first fire. Certainly he had squandered energy that evening, and commonsense advised him not to make love to her again, or to try to buy her island in the morning. But her refractoriness only increased his own. The Anglo-Saxon grit that mingled with his Celtic mobility began to assert itself. He would certainly try to buy that island in the morning. And now it occurred to him that the universal waste of energy may not occur within the atom. He sat up and thought about it There in the darkling tent he tried to frame some equations that would explain the dispersion of light without upsetting what he believed about the motions of electrons. Chapter 46. Palladium Next morning after breakfast the doctor went off to his garden, and Marvin sat down on the porch to wait till something should bring her out there. In an hour she emerged, bearing a blue bowl and his bag of peas. “I thought you had gone fishing.” “No, I am waiting to buy your island.” “To do what?” “To buy your island.” “What do you want it for?” “I don’t exactly know.” “Mr. Mahan, you are offering to buy something that you have no earthly use for. That is pity again. You have guessed that the Little Pine’s present was needed. But I don’t like to be pitied. In fact I won’t be pitied.” “I’m not offering pity. I’m offering ten thousand.” “What, for a thing that I pay just about two dollars a year in taxes on? The grammar isn’t very good, but it’s as good as the judgment you show.” “Well, now, darlin’—that is to say, Miss Jean Winifred Rich—my judgment may be poor, but consider. Look at that object out there in the water. It has a hundred pines worth thirty dollars apiece as they stand, and a hundred more worth half as much. You are selling valuable timber, and harbors, and wonderful views, and easy access to transportation. You are selling a perfect site for a summer home.” “I’m not selling anything, Mr. Mahan, but I’d like to ask if you wish to build a summer home.” “Nothing could please me more, but I am not buying for myself.” “Whom are you buying for?” “I am not at liberty to say.” “What is it likely to be used for?” He gazed off toward the island, which lay in detailed perfection under the cloudy light. It was unimprovable beauty. Not one fairy foreland or one spray of pine ought to be changed.