"Practising singing, Aaron," replied Jack. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. He grunted, and his grip gave. 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. A nod was exchanged. The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Forgive me?” She pleaded. CHAPTER XI.
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