” She grinned. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. I—listen. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. 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. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. " "It is so, nevertheless," replied Wild. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.
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