“But your sister,” he said. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. . The doctor drew out the contents hopefully. “Get out of the car. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. 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.
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