It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. “Yeah. Making up a similar story to that which he had told the old woman, he said he wanted to purchase a hammer and a file. He smiled complacently. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. Ramage, speaking the simplest first thought of his heart. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. 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. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done.
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