The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate. And later they paddled in a boat above the mysterious deeps of the See, and peered down into the green-blues and the blue-greens together. His name was Peter. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. 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. ’ ‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly.
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