“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. But she veiled her feelings. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. " "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. Nice, of course. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. His glances were hard to disguise as he scanned her periodically during class. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking.
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