"You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. B. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. 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. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Beauty has bloomed and faded. That’s why I come to tell you.
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