She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. 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. On the present occasion, he appeared to have bestowed more than ordinary attention on his toilette. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened.
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