"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. She delighted in frustrating him. ” Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. "There's his knock. Tell me I haven’t heard. After he had eaten dinner with Ruth, he had gone to McClintock's; and he had heard music such as he had heard only in the great concert halls. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. See paragraph 1. She drew it out with shaking fingers.
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