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ows it away. "Go on." _Ashley_: "I wasn't saying anything!" _Miss Ramsey_: "Oh, I forgot. And I don't know what we were talking about myself." She falls limply back into her chair and closes her eyes. _Ashley_: "Sha'n't I ring for the maid? I'm afraid--" _Miss Ramsey_, imperiously: "Not at all. Not on any account." Far less imperiously: "You may pour me a cup of tea if you like. That will make me well. The full strength, please." She motions away the hot-water jug with which he has proposed qualifying the cup of tea which he offers her. _Ashley_: "One lump or two?" _Miss Ramsey_: "Only one, thank you." She takes the cup. _Ashley_, offering the milk: "Cream?" _Miss Ramsey_: "A drop." He stands anxiously beside her while she takes a long draught and then gives back the cup. "That was perfect." _Ashley_: "Another?" _Miss Ramsey_: "No, that is just right. Now go on. Or, I forgot. You were not going on. Oh dear! How much better I feel. There must have been something poisonous in those cigarettes." _Ashley_: "Yes, there was tobacco." _Miss Ramsey_: "Oh, do you think it was the tobacco? Do throw the whole box into the fire! I shall tell Bob never to get cigarettes with tobacco in them after this. Won't you have one of the chocolates? Or a mallow? I feel as if I should never want to eat anything again. Where was I?" She rests her cheek against the side of her chair cushion, and speaks with closed eyes, in a weak murmur. Mr. Ashley watches her at first with anxiety, then with a gradual change of countenance until a gleam of intelligence steals into his look of compassion. _Ashley_: "You asked me to throw the cigarettes into the fire. But I want you to let me keep them." _Miss Ramsey_, with wide-flung eyes: "You? You said you wouldn't smoke." _Ashley_, laughing: "May I change my mind? One talks better." He lights a cigarette. "And, Miss Ramsey, I believe I _will_ have a cocktail, after all." _Miss Ramsey_: "Mr. Ashley!" _Ashley_, without noting her protest: "I had forgotten that I had a corkscrew in my pocket-knife. Don't trouble yourself to ring for one." He produces the knife and opens the bottle; then, as Miss Ramsey rises and stands aghast, he pours out a glass and offers it to her, with mock devotion. As she shakes her head and recoils: "Oh! I thought you liked cocktails. They are very good after cigarettes--very reviving. But if you won't--" He tosses off the cocktail and sets down th
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