“You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. ” “You seem to have said just what had to be said. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. ” “I think, Mr.
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