He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. She found herself asking more and more curiously, “Why, on the principle of the survival of the fittest, have I any sense of beauty at all?” That enabled her to go on thinking about beauty when it seemed to her right that she should be thinking about biology. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. ‘Am I right in supposing you to have been a sister to the late Mr Jarvis Remenham?’ ‘Quite right.
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