I think you’re wrong. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. And not only so, but that it was after all, a more systematic and particular method of examining just the same questions that underlay the discussions of the Fabian Society, the talk of the West Central Arts Club, the chatter of the studios and the deep, the bottomless discussions of the simple-life homes. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. " "Stand off, Sir!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting suddenly backwards.
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