” Lucy spat. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. 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. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. . You must keep out of the way till it's blown over.
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