"That's it!"—eagerly. "O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. " "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. ” “Yes. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Ramage did not know. " So saying, he bowed and departed.
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