Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. There happened that year to be an unusual proportion of girls and women in the advanced laboratory, perhaps because the class as a whole was an exceptionally small one.
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