He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. Paul's are his work. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees.
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