Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. 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.
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