‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. 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. ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. Spurling, half aside.
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