She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict.
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