"She has fallen into the villain's hands. “They all catch on,” she said. My proposition is for you to keep an eye on him, and the moment he puts on his clothes to send me a telegram, care of the HongKong Hotel. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. That's worth something to me; for I don't mind paying for revenge.
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