Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. " "Only as a brother?" persisted Kneebone. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose.
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