“Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate.
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