“You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. The walls of the room were lined with shelves, on which were glass jars, retorts, countless bottles and many appliances of surgical science. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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