He looked half at her and half at the sky. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. 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. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. ’ ‘Distract me? She nigh on gave me an apoplexy.
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