In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. 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. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief.
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