" "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. ’ ‘But the general gave his permission. But he knew. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. She had heard the trader utter it many times. Ramage?” he asked. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. He was in love with her! She tried to grasp all the welter of values in the situation simultaneously, and draw some conclusion from their disorder. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Martha was quite right.
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