Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. “Well, no,” she answered. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. 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. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow.
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