“Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. 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. Age is set, impervious to innovations. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Mr.
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