They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets.
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