"Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. “Yes, John. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him.
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