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Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. ‘Looks like it. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated; but they might have been worse. I never forgive an injury.
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