Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. "I'll make myself intelligible before I've done," rejoined Wild. She indicated the captain who had retired behind the sofa. She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that.
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