Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. This is altogether insupportable. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. I’d do anything, Vee. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from.
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