He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill. She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. . ’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. 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 are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour.
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