Earles glanced at it, and his eyes flashed with anger. 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. Manning and the men in “fixed” positions generally that she knew, Ramage, presented by himself, had a fine suggestion of freedom, of power, of deliberate and sustained adventure. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. Sheppard. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. “Look round the table,” she said.
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