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. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. Satisfied that he had solved his difficulty, he proceeded to his room. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. Surely she could ignore him.
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