“Very much as usual,” said Ramage. ‘You have not the right. That is, if Spurlock had been throwing money about, which was more than likely. 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. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished.
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