“I want to know who you are. " "Well, that's fine. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. She had almost chosen to prostitute herself rather than live in that animal state once, but had found a warm cave in Kentucky just as situations had grown truly desperate. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. You intrigue me. Now, in her old place, she was doing her best thoroughly to enjoy a most indifferent dinner.
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