He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. It was hard to meet that gaze. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. A door slammed. "I've got something to say to you," continued the speaker, rather less harshly; "something to your advantage; so come out o' your hiding-place, and let's have some supper, for I'm infernally hungry.
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