Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. ’ Her face fell. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. 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 leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. It was horrible, but she must do it. The whole story of your relationship is a fabrication.
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