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. \"Sure, I'd love to borrow some clothes for the night. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Within ten minutes he had read much more than had greeted his eye.
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