“Shit happens, John. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t care for me. Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates.
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