“He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. Manning appeared just at the end of the afternoon’s work, and the biologist was going through some perplexities the Scotchman had created by a metaphysical treatment of the skulls of Hyrax and a young African elephant. Not if I read her aright. Larry Beck did his best to the flares of her temper from rising. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. It’s to do with adolescence.
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