CHAPTER III. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. They all balk because there aren't any petticoats.
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