She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. She would write to Gerald. 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. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest.
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