Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. There was nothing on the Tablets of Moses that forebade Spurlock marrying Ruth; there were no previous contracts.
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