"I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. A curious silence ensued. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. "Promise me that. “I tell my Mom everything. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. 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. But probably not the truth. ‘You wound me to the heart, Melusine. I will tell you our plans on the way to the station. Altogether different.
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