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Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. He shook his head. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. I’m sorry Lucy. ” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly.
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