Stanley almost liked Ramage. “I hope that it has not done any harm. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Prudence. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. The will to live had returned.
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