I jumped then—I was not even shaken. The boiling under her stern, however, told him nothing. Being a Chinaman in blood and instinct, he despised all spinsters; they were parasites. 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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