‘I have justice. 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. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. But she perceived that to tell Manning of her Ramage adventures as they had happened would be like tarring figures upon a water-color. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. ‘Parbleu, but it is not comfortable in the least in there. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot.
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