She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ” “Then condemn me to Hell. ” Anna was bewildered.
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