Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. 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. ’ Melusine’s heart twisted. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed.
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