As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again.
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