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. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter's earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment.
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