“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. He slapped his knee. 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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