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It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. The doctor would naturally offer a hundred objections; he might seriously interfere; so he must be forestalled. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. 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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