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. He pulled on her shoulder, bringing her mouth to his in a kiss. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. . " "Ah. ” Ennison nodded. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies.
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