Then I saw Mrs. Alban's to-night. I did so. I know exactly what I am doing. 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. She bounced onto her bottom. Not a breath was drawn. As the lapse of time and change of circumstances have wrought a remarkable alteration in the appearance of the poor widow, it may not be improper to notice it here.
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