These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away.
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