“She seems an unusually clever girl,” said Ramage. She turned and looked at the red LED of the alarm clock that read 3:55. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. ‘You little fool! I’m a trained soldier with ten years experience at my back. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. " The lad made no answer, but left the room. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads.
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