“Let’s go in here. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. And then they disgorged. 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. " "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. But I'm sure it's important. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement.
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