You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. Your aunt liked the pheasant. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. Here they would be having lunch. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day.
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