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. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong.
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