There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. You know—if you want freedom. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. ’ ‘It is you who will get the head blown off,’ threatened the young lady fiercely. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. White assured her. You are—horrible.
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