It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. . 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. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper. ’ The possibility was indeed remote, for there had been no trouble with France since the Peace of Versailles had been signed six years ago. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked.
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