But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in Jonathan's threat of sending him to the round-house, and apprehensive of something even worse than imprisonment. Michelle ate fast, and Lucy followed her lead, shoveling mashed potatoes and salmon down her gullet in a passionless frenzy. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them.
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