The biological laboratory, perpetually viewing life as pairing and breeding and selection, and again pairing and breeding, seemed only a translated generalization of that assertion. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. No one spoke to her. I've bumped into so much of the underside that I can't see clean any more. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. She looked steadfastly out. ’ She was about to develop this theme, when Jack’s gaze became fixed, and his expression changed. He talked very little and rather absently.
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