"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. Beauty has bloomed and faded. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. 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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