" "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. 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 had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. ” He read it in winter in the evening after dinner, and Ann Veronica associated it with a tendency to monopolize the lamp, and to spread a very worn pair of dappled fawn-skin slippers across the fender. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. ” There was silence between them. He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket.
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