It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. "You've won your wager. \"Shouldn't you be in bed? You go into work at 5:30, I thought. " "I'll take my chance," replied Jonathan, with a sinister smile. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. Gerald pressed against the wall, and signalled Roding to go to the other side of the door.
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