She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you from me. Ramage,” she cried, “you are outrageous! You understand nothing. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. Yet she held her tongue. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage.
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