The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. Did he not look for her in the morning when she entered—come very quickly to her? She thought of him as she had last seen him looking down the length of the laboratory to see her go. We had no idea. Besides, she had admitted her identity. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation.
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