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. Courtlaw rose to his feet. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on.
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