That is all I ask. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. She had heard Alice talking and crying at the same time, a painful noise. He had a wild impulse to shout. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete.
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