If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. And Ramage too—about Ramage there would always be that air of avidity, that air of knowledge and inquiry, the mixture of things in his talk that were rather good with things that were rather poor. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. " "Funny, about that coat.
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