She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. I'll send for Wu Fang. She addressed an envelope to Ramage, and scrawled on a half-sheet of paper, “The rest shall follow. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. Then we find out. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. With this view, he suffered him to pass on.
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