The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it.
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