She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. But at the same time, I must say plainly that I think your presence here just now would be a great misfortune. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me.
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