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. " There was a roaring in her ears like that of angry waters. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. It was a moment before he recognised that the effect had been similar on all those present, including General Lord Charvill. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest.
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