Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers.
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