But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. That’s— that’s my private life. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final.
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