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. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. The terror faded from her eyes. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. She took up a book and threw it down again.
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