I don’t want to stop your singing. . ’ ‘Well, but Leonardo he was excessively useful to me, you know,’ Melusine said airily. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. 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.
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