On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. The end of the world seemed at hand. . She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. "Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. “Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. This was what he missed.
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