"He's dead," exclaimed Austin. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. "That depends upon what you call educated. He classified her as he seated himself. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them.
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