She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Time enough for Gosse to shut her mouth forever, as he did not hesitate to point out to her. "To me?" gasped Winifred. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. 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. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. " "Well, take a chair," rejoined Kneebone.
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