And then you can go home and think things over before we talk again. Ramage stood up, and suddenly turned the key in the door in an off-hand manner. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it.
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