She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. "One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you," said Jack. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets.
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