Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. “You think that this is all. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there.
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