“Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination.
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