Thus, McClintock carried to Copeley's press about half a million pounds of copra. I'm a poor nurse. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. 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. . But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers.
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