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“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. Sheppard, struggling to get free. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. 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. It was still possible the child might be in safety. He kissed her once on the lips with a passion of which, during all their days of married life, he had given no sign. ’ ‘How was it then that Nicholas Charvill was known to have gone to France. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 12:03:29
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