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Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. "Untie his arms, and take off that handkerchief. Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind.
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