” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands.
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