But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. . 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. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face.
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