" CHAPTER IX. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. “Reuben, come here. 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. And I’d do it again for you if needs be. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. When he was given the telegram he flew to the Praya, engaged the fast motorboat he had previously bespoken against the need, and started for the Macao Passage, with the vague hope of speaking The Tigress.
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