“I changed my last shilling yesterday. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. At last she was roused. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. Then, I thought, she has repented, all will be well. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go.
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