“Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. I came here to beg you not to sign that contract.
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