I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. Melusine’s heart jumped and she felt heat rising into her cheeks. 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. He declined supper, but took wine.
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