What they do with him afterward is off my ticket, no concern of James Boyle; they can lock him up or let him go. 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. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something.
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