“Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels.
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