"Is it poison?" she asked. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. She hated living like that. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind.
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