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. My arm's nearly well again. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. You should remember, before you try your strength against mine, that when I rescued you from the watch, and you induced me to come and live with you, I beat off four men, any of whom was a match for you—ha! ha!" "My dear Poll!" said Kneebone, picking himself up, "I entreat you to moderate yourself.
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