Ramage stood up, and suddenly turned the key in the door in an off-hand manner. He was in the house with his mother. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened.
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