Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. The terrific mental tension of the past few months —that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation—became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air. It had been easy to steal. I said I hadn’t been at the Royal Society soiree for four years, and got him to tell me about some of the fresh Mendelian work. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. " "Perhaps that was it.
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