F. To return. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage.
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