The elements were wrathful as their passions. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. 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. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. "I had to give in to him.
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