“Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. Wood, disdainfully. “He’s got almost to like it. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him.
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