“Hey, Mike. Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage.
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