That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again. Yes, this was a little better. “Can you come out tonight?” “Um, sure, I guess. Here's a couple in hand. ’ She moved quickly to the nearest bookcase, and listened intently to the sound of Jack’s voice. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. "Water!" he gasped. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. 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.
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