One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white.
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