The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Lucy's ears were singing. Earles declared good-humouredly, “but I shall not let you go without drinking a glass of wine to our success. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly.
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