"I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. 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. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway.
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