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. Still, in spite of her glances and gestures, Mr. \"Where would you like to go?\" \"Burger King okay?\" \"Are you sure you don't want to go to some place fancier?\" He was surprised. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. "Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr.
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