Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. “Tell me more about this Martin Chen. Wood in the deepest mourning.
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