It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. “It’s jolly of you to come,” said Ramage. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. " "I am here in Canton," she replied, simply. " "Oh, a shave and a clean suit will do a lot.
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