It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. 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. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. Mrs. . Hearing the spring touched, he dashed through on the instant, and struck down the person who presented himself, with his bludgeon.
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