He had deliberately saved it for last. This time there wasn't any doubt. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. It was impossible to meet the motion bodily. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks.
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