A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look.
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