’ Fury rippled again. She removed it. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. . . But the Yale spirit!" Ah Cum laughed. I did think it could be done. 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. She could not apply it in this instance because she was not sure the application would be correct. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup.
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