You must know that. I haven’t taken much account of it until now. But I do not love you. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. I do not love any one. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park.
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