That summer she was a good deal saddened by the news from Russia. In the
broad valley of the Volga, already ravaged by the passions of armies, no
spring showers had coaxed the wheat out of its matrix, and Samarans
might soon be driven to devour their own children. She could not fully
sense the image and horror of what was coming, but it was all a warning
against marriage.
Yet Russia was rich in natural resources, and especially rich in
platinum, which it had been using as coins. She had never seen platinum,
and had no hope of seeing it, but she knew how precious it is in a
laboratory. She knew also that because it is worth five times as much as
gold, much of it hangs on the necks of rich women, who are utterly
unaware of the sin they are committing. The whole earth produces less
than ten tons a year, and every ounce of it is needed for crucibles or
wire or apparatus, but the density of platinum is nothing to the density
of human minds.
One thing about platinum interested and puzzled her. When finely divided
it hastens the union of hydrogen and oxygen without losing any of its
mass. It produces explosions without itself exploding. It struck her
that this was a good deal like the rich women who owned it, but that it
was also like electricity. She had a horror of explosions, but she had a
growing interest in electricity. If George Gillies could find her some
zinc and copper, she might be able to make herself a battery.