They are born idiots, incurably insane. Ramage stood up, and suddenly turned the key in the door in an off-hand manner. “Drive towards St. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. The boy’s besotted. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known.
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