Inquiring for Mrs. ” The corners of her mouth rose in a weak smile and she gave him a wink. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and shut them both into privacy. Um. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden.
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