“The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. " "Prolonging the misery. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue.
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