By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. Observe it—a blue-serge coat. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. You sing better than Annabel ever did, you have even a better style.
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