” Mr. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. She started forward. This is retribution. Stanley?” “I’ve fallen out with my father. You’ll have to find someone else. She goes out and comes home. And for me there is only one treasure-house. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. “I’m not sure whether we don’t rather overdo all this higher education,” he said, with an effect of conveying profound meanings.
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