" The Wastrel laughed. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. “I’ll come to the station,” said Ann Veronica. 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. ’ He gestured towards the fulminating general.
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