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. “What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked. " While he was thus musing, he fancied he heard the lock tried. ’ She moved quickly to the nearest bookcase, and listened intently to the sound of Jack’s voice. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. ” “Then come back.
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