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” He shook his head. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. 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. When she entered the office a strange scene was presented to her startled gaze. ’ His head came thrusting out at Melusine like a belligerent tortoise from its shell.
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