To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. The key is in my trousers. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. ” She whispered.
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