Gerald at once rid himself of his own glass and leapt to her assistance. They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness.
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