That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. Voilà tout, as Melusine herself would say. But in a moment she believed she understood. 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. ” Her hand hung over the side of her chair nearest to him.
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