He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. ” Ann Veronica reflected.
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