I had that coming. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. The father would be all steel. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision.
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