She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. " So she told him the adventure of the two beachcombers in the typhoon, and how they became regenerated by their magnificent courage. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. 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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