‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. She was fine and tender. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table.
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