The biological laboratory, perpetually viewing life as pairing and breeding and selection, and again pairing and breeding, seemed only a translated generalization of that assertion. We already had a place to mislay blame. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. Dare you?” “Do you mean NOW?” “At the end of the session. Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child.
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