” Anna shook her head. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. Man or woman. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. It’s no good. It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet.
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