"No such thing," rejoined Thames. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily. His physical body was predictably paralyzed with shyness and fear of rejection, barely soothed with a series 51 of blatantly direct requests and compliments. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen. Wood in the deepest mourning.
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