" "We'll be waiting for you. He walked with bent head. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. 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. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses.
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