The twenty pounds burned with avidity. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. His skill has not been tried. Most of them didn’t, anyhow. 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. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. The chance had gone. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. He has told me sufficient of you—" "My dear," interposed Wood, "for goodness' sake—" "I will speak," screamed his wife, totally disregarding the interruption; "I will tell this worthless creature what I know about her,—and what I think of her. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of expression. "I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle.
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