“I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested.
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