” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. . Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now. Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword.
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