Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. I promise not to do it again. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. ” “He dated her?” “Yeah, for all of three months last year. He was a philosopher.
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