He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature. He saw that she was tense. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. 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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