CHAPTER VIII. Like the flaws of an old marble. She taught me how to crochet and cross stitch. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. It was a haunted place. If we were set upon I could not defend you. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. She took his hand in hers.
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