. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. "What is this?" she wanted to know. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
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