She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. Softly she rose to her feet. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. I’ve just seen him. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees.
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