She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. ” “You are going to speak to me of things which happened before we met in London?” she asked quietly. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. " "Yes. 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. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend.
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