He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. 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. The only thing they don’t fight over is the addition. "It's strange the antipathy he bears to Sheppard.
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