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. ‘You said it. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. 1. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now.
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