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. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. "I can't," answered Blueskin.
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