She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. The water was cold but she waded deeper. ” John gestured. Gerald frowned. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. A cup of lies.
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