It was as if he could smell it on her. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Go for it. But go thither at once, I beseech you, before he has time to remove them. 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. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine.
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