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. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back.
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