“Of course I will,” he answered. No mercenary consideration influences me. "I will," answered the prisoner. She made an abrupt personal appeal. Come home alone. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. 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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