” A birthday present of a microscope had turned his mind to technical microscopy when he was eighteen, and a chance friendship with a Holborn microscope dealer had confirmed that bent. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. “I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare.
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