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. Maggot. Besides," she added, blushing yet more deeply, "it isn't a proper one to talk upon. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open. Humph. But he only went home again to Paddington.
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