“Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. " He paused, and not without malice. I ——” He stopped short. There's something human about you now. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. Adieu! my charmer. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact.
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