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. I feel beautiful. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. ‘Kill him? Oh.
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