She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. “Stop!” He ran towards her. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. He found, however, that now the time had come he utterly lacked the courage to attempt any such speech. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. And then she would find work.
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