It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. My servant. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. 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. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Roddy muffed two. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel.
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