" There was another pause. Look at these walls. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets.
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