" Prudence shrugged. You didn’t even put the twelve words. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. "I declare I'm all in a cold sweat. ” “Did you say,” Sir John asked, “that the man’s name was Hill?” “Yes,” she answered. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. 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.
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