He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. “I wonder what he will do?” She tried to imagine situations that might arise out of Ramage’s antagonism, for he had been so bitter and savage that she could not believe that he would leave things as they were. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground.
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