There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. 7. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. 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. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand.
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