The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun.
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