He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. 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. You’re all dependents—all of you. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. The palanquin is hired and so is the procession.
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