“I shall never be able to thank you. 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. “I know. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. ‘She’s gone.
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