“That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. Over the gateway towards Snow Hill, were two strong wards, called the Castle and the Red Room. 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. . Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. You might even tire of me by then, you know.
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