Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. We did not know where to send … in case you died. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk.
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