Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. E below. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. . 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.
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