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 has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. She thought me— filthy. The man lingered. On Tuesday night, she was rather better, and I had left her for a short time, as I thought, asleep on the sofa in the little parlour of which she is so fond —" "Well," exclaimed Jack. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. "It's a mercy you both escaped!" ejaculated Wood, only just finding his tongue.
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