The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. ’ Then I kicked him until he was black and blue. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. 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.
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