’ ‘I know,’ he said, smiling. “I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. 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. An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. Clothes. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. . The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong.
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