He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers.
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