He lit a cigarette and loitered about. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. She twisted her fingers tightly. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other.
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