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. She uncrossed her legs and lowered herself, carefully and slowly, until she lay supine. “As I love you. And if I cared to have him come every day, why shouldn’t he? I find him very amusing and very useful as well. "I never told anybody," she went on. The kiss was powerfully moving. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. She began to tremble violently.
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