Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. I do want them. Sir John stood upon the threshold. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. . I must bless him before I die. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it.
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