Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. ” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ’ ‘Oh yes, or walked through the walls, I dare say. She asked no further questions for the moment.
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