She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. For you know that I have made up my mind to dig a little way into life single-handed. ” “It can’t prevent our loving. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. It was too good to be true. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival.
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