She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money. She had narrowly escaped Martin in Orchestra class, who had been wrapped up discussing a new piece of his with Mr.
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