“Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. 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. ’ ‘But if I am with you, as André Valade, as your husband, an émigré—’ ‘Pah!’ Melusine spat. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man.
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