In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. 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. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. ” Lucy snickered.
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