“In that laboratory one gets to disregard these passions,” began Capes. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. He was staring at her, openly gaping. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires.
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