” “Ah!” Sir John exclaimed. I have said that I am but a nun now. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. All the party were greatly interested by Sheppard's history— especially Figg, who laughed loud and long at the escape from the Condemned Hold. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. . 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. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired.
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