Here then we see at work new forces of friction, pressure, gravita-tion and dripping of rain, turning endlessly and slowly the lemur-fashion into the ape-fashion, with unlimited time for their effectual action. In this stock of Man’s ancestry Selection was taking care of the individual and Habit of the details of his making—two truly harmonious partners .
From Ape to Man.
"Will he come?"
"No, he did not want to," was the journalist's abrupt reply, for he was taken by surprise, though he had got ready some sort of tale to explain Count Muffat's refusal.
Seeing the young woman's sudden pallor, he became conscious of his folly and tried to retract his words.
"He was unable to; he is taking the countess to the ball at the Ministry of the Interior tonight."
"All right," murmured Nana, who suspected him of ill will, "you'll pay me out for that, my pippin."
Thereupon everybody mourned over Bordenave's absence. No one ever gave a good supper without Bordenave. Ah well, they would try and do without him, and they were already talking about other matters when a burly voice was heard:
"What, eh, what? Is that the way they're going to write my obituary notice ?"
"God blast it all!" he grumbled. "We're squashed all the same! Ah, my kittens, Papa recommends himself to your tender care Mathematics Summer Courses!"
"Oh, it's quite right, quite right!" said Nana. "Sit down, pray. Let's see, you--Clarisse--push up a little. You're a good deal spread out down there. That's it--where there's a will--"
They crowded more tightly than ever, and Foucarmont and Louise were given a little stretch of table, but the friend had to sit at some distance from his plate and ate his supper through dint of making a long arm between his neighbors' shoulders. The waiters took away the soup plates and circulated rissoles of young rabbit with truffles and "niokys" and powdered cheese. table with the announcement that at one moment he had had the idea of bringing with him Prulliere, Fontan and old Bosc. At this Nana looked sedate and remarked dryly that she would have given them a pretty reception. Had she wanted colleagues, she would certainly have undertaken to ask them herself. No, no, she wouldn't have third-rate play actors. Old Bosc was always drunk; Prulliere was fond of spitting too much, and as to Fontan, he made himself unbearable in society with his loud voice and his stupid doings. Then, you know, third-rate play actors were always out of place when they found themselves in the society of gentlemen such as those around her .
"Yes, yes, it's true," Mignon declared.