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" "But not for me," growled Terence, in an under tone. She had been working upon a ribbon of microtome sections of the developing salamander, and he came to see what she had made of them. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. ” He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog. Even our coarseness.
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