Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together.
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