It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. 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. "Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains. That is so like you, Diana—Pallas Athene! (Pallas Athene is better. Just beyond there would be her heart's desire.
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