' That's your signal. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. 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. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable.
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