She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. She had already realized that this instructress was hopelessly wrong and foggy—it is the test of the good comparative anatomist—upon the skull. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m afraid I am far too interested to stop mixing myself in your affairs,’ Gerald said ruefully.
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