They were enormously pleased with one another; they found each other beyond measure better than they had expected, if only because of the want of substance in mere expectation. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. “Only—I have come face to face—with something terrible, and wholly unexpected trouble. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. ‘Can’t see a thing.
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