‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. 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. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. , Liverpool, London and Prescot. ” Sheila scolded, but Lucy had invented a dozen reasons why she had to have her own hamper until finally Sheila got tired of it and relented. .
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