The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. Her faculties seemed for a moment numbed. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Kneebone nodded. It came again. “Just the box only. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire.
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