Perhaps she was. " Gravely he watched the needle flash to and fro. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery.
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