She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. I don’t know what has come over me. ‘I left a message at home that he should do so as soon as he returned from Kent. 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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