Wood became sensible that he was not alone. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. She did not speak to John in the week of school left after the Prom. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face.
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