“I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. “Yes, he made them all. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor.
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