His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. 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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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 19:50:38