It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Manning as they talked. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. “I said that at the Zoo, and I mean it. Where else could she go?’ ‘And there aren’t too many of them around,’ agreed Hilary on a gloomy note. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead.
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