" "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. “I was already aware of the fact. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. ” “I’ll wait, then. Never did I need a rescue so much. Do not be a fool, Jacques. ‘But she will not shoot you,’ Melusine told him flatly. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. “I do mean that,” she declared. It was as though he were personally aggrieved. 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. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays.
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