‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. ” She said warmly. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk.
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