Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. Ramage did not know. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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