Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. The windows which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars, and an oaken beam. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. "The marriage was never consummated," continued the imperturbable stranger. .
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