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. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. A crisis of some kind was toward. Or perhaps my father once. She spoke slowly. ‘Take this. Then came the great day. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can.
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