He sat down. Stanley poured wine. ToC Sir Rowland, meantime, paced his chamber with a quick and agitated step. She had one idea, she found, very clear in her mind—that she would get a Research Scholarship, and so contrive another year in the laboratory. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans.
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