\" He said to her after he bought his own ticket. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. Of you, I mean.
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