” He adjusted his glasses on his nose. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. First, look at this glove. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. Then a roar of hisses. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. "Few stay more than a day.
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