” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. You must—you shall be mine. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum.
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