" "Where—where?" cried Thames. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better.
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