on coming into the now really warm room. out of the frozen stinging air, of an odd sensation in her head. It feels light and swimming, but she reads on. Now and then the type waves up and down before her like the furrows of a ploughed field; but she reads on. The matter of the book and the matter of her thoughts are woven hopelessly together like warp and woof, but she reads on : "If it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed which could not possibly have been formed by numerous successive slight modifications' (in how many years am I likely to die?) my theory would absolutely break down. But I can find out no such case. No doubt many organs exist of which' (can the worm that never dies sting more sharply than this?) 'we do we do not know transitional grades. ' the How the print is jigging and bowing; but it will come straight and still again. just now. She reads on. unable to follow you; you are making nonsense of it!" But instead of complying, Belinda tumbles the volume noisily down into the fender, and falls off her chair after it. Her wish is fulfilled: she has fainted! |