Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. Seldom they molested a woman who appeared to know where she was going and who kept her glance resolutely to the fore. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. That's the job.
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