She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. " "Egad, Jack," said Gay, "you should write your adventures. A little love from him would be enough. I'm not interested in him. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened.
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