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. 153 The halls emptied with special urgency as teens rushed forth into heated cars and buses to make the mad dash home before the coming storm. Earles asked sharply. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. .
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