He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. “Well?” she said. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeeded in getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down the patient's throat. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. 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. ’ ‘Because I have never heard anything so ridiculous,’ Gerald announced. And then, there would be the question of money.
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