266 She peered up at him. "Suppose he does. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. “Once or twice. “Mid-thirties. Miss Mary to the life. ” “Very well,” he said.
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