Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. I was resolved to see you. Brown or Jones, I dare say. That’s really what I want to discuss. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning.
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