I asked him to take me away, and hide me. He leaned forward to better drink her in. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. You climb by disappointing men. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. It would hurt no one.
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