‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. If anyone noticed, he did not report the event. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Had to. ’ The dagger was in her hand. She had no idea what she should do.
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