" "You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely recovering his cheerfulness of look. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. You jumped, and I think that you left me. 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. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. What you said wanted saying. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly.
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