They drove rapidly through the emptying streets. I will dedicate my books to you. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. “I will not have this slavery. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. 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. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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