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\" Michelle agreed, staring into the clouds. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. I hated him. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. 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. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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