. ’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. 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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