"Answer me one question first?" he said; "I half suspect you're Jack Sheppard. I cannot have my wife distressed or worried. 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. "Would you rather be alone?" "No.
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