She twanged the catgut under her fingers. . 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. Either that or some other person also obtained admission here and shot him, and that person is either still upon the premises or escaped without your notice. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat.
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