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. And if I cared to have him come every day, why shouldn’t he? I find him very amusing and very useful as well. The major hailed him with a show of relief. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. Dollis Hill revisited 324 XII.
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